A Life Rescued
by IHateSnakes
Summary: Thirty year old Jesse Aarons makes a deal with the Devil to save Leslie Burke's life, but all is not as it seems. Based on the movie version of Bridge to Terabithia, this is a look into the life Jesse and Leslie might have had together.
1. Part 1: The Nightmares

**Preface**

Since there is no real time reference in the movie I shall use early-spring of 2007 as the date of Leslie's 'death,' say Thursday, April 5th. Spring Break for Virginia schools was April 2-6. The birthday scene in the movie only revealed eleven candles on the cake. Eleven is an appropriate age for a fifth-grader, probably making Jesse's birth year 1996. This chapter covers a period from mid-2024 through mid-2025. Leslie has been dead for eighteen years and Jesse is now around thirty.

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review if you like (or dislike) my story.

IHateSnakes April 9, 2008

_Warning: This story is rated T for teens, it is not really suitable for children. Chapter 1 contains references to substance abuse, a brief but moderately descriptive scene of tragedy, and self-murder. Please be aware that this is only fiction: do not read on if you think you might be disturbed or offended._

**A Life Rescued  
Part 1  
Chapter 1 - The Nightmares**

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story. _

He awoke in the middle of a full-fledged night-terror, the same one he'd experienced almost daily for eighteen years: Leslie Burke was walking casually towards the rope over the creek, PT following closely behind. Running next to her, Jesse Aarons was pleading, begging, crying for her to turn back. He tried to grab her arm but his ghostly existence would not take hold of her flesh: he was unseen and unheard. As in all the other times, he stood screaming for her to stop, but she continued forward. Picking up the long branch hidden in the brush, she hooked the end of the rope and stepped up onto the log, preparing to swing. PT jumped into her arms and she leapt up and onto the rope.

Knowing what was about to happen, Jesse closed his eyes, but the dream forced them open to witness it all over again. As Leslie and PT's full weight came down on the rope, it snapped. Because she was leaning back at the time, Leslie's body continued in its motion, turning her over in a half back-flip. It happened in a fraction of a second. Only inches above the swollen creek, she landed head first, her body following into the murky waters. Then, as she was about to disappear, what he could see of her body shuddered, convulsed, and limply disappeared into the water. Through his tears, Jesse jumped down into the raging creek and tried, as he had thousands of other times, to pull her up. But it was the same ending.

A face floating up through the murk, blood-stained hair shifting in the current, a dead look in the open eyes, and the voice: _Where were you, Jess?_

His screams filled the empty bedroom.

* * *

_Dr. Janice Trefry  
Prince William County Mental Health Clinic  
Gunston Hall Office, Gunston, Virginia  
Transcribed "Patient J" (Case 2311457) Notes for period February 3, 2024 through June 22, 2025_

_Patient J was a 30-year-old male who was well dressed, presented a well-organized and succinct history, and said he was unsure if he could "manage to survive" a few more months. He reported being profoundly depressed, sad, hopeless, and apathetic for several months, probably years. He had no history of psychiatric problems and reported a normal childhood, supportive family, and successful academic and occupational history, until recently. He said he drank heavily starting at age seventeen, did not smoke but had begun using drugs (type unspecified but not Marijuana.) He also described treatment for severe headaches. Before this episode, he claimed no prior suicidal ideation. Other records later showed this to be inaccurate._

* * *

For a good portion of the last eighteen years of his life, Jesse Aarons had studied math and physics. The fact that he hated both subjects probably accounted for much of his reclusive existence, as the time he would have otherwise spent socializing was used to keep his grades up - and his hope alive. Hope was an important aspect to the little project he pursued, because until the year 2023 no one worth a fat rat's behind, in any branch of Physics, from super-string theory to basic wave analysis, believed that time travel was possible. Actually, that wasn't _completely_ true. Traveling _forward_ in time had been proven in the late 1960's and early 1970's when the Apollo astronauts, traveling at great speed away from the earth, aged a fraction of a second less than their Earth-bound counterparts and thus – again – proved Einstein correct.

But, while an interesting part of relativity theory, going _forward_ didn't help Jesse at all; he needed to go _back_ in time. And the longer it took him to find a way to do it the further back he had to go. He wasn't certain if this was important, though it did seem logical.

The strain of his pursuits and lack of progress drove Jesse deeper into depression. By 2021 he had lost the only promising job he held at George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia, as an adjunct professor of Physics. Heavy drinking was beginning to affect his health and too many missed lectures gave cause for his dismissal. Of his family, he kept regular contact only with May Belle, (or May as she insisted on being called once she was grown,) but even that relationship was strained.

Then, in 2022, after years of fruitless search for what was appearing to be an insurmountable problem, Jesse attempted suicide. He botched it badly and ended up in the hospital and in his first sessions of psychiatric counseling. They were a disaster. Refusing to share with his psychoanalyst his obsession with a long dead twelve year old girl caused a cascade of lies that became impossible to continue supporting. After a few months he discontinued the therapy and sponged off May while looking up the latest Theories of Temporal Transit, a new and highly controversial branch of physics that dealt with moving solid objects backward and forward in time, for this was the only way to bring Leslie back into his life. Or so he believed.

* * *

_Currently, he felt sad and depressed; if something did not improve, he might consider suicide, but he had no clear plan or method. Patient J asked the nurse psychotherapist to provide treatment with antidepressants and psychotherapy to manage his depression for the short term (about 4 months) at his own expense until he could find full-time employment offering health benefits. He was moderately to severely depressed based on observation and a Beck Depression Score (Beck, Brown, Steer, Dahlsgaard, & Frishman, 1999; Wright, Thase, Beck, & Ludgate, 1993)._

* * *

In late 2023, Jesse begged for, and was granted, an interview with Dr. Edmond Hastings of Cambridge University in England, one of the leaders of Temporal Transit Theory. Much against her better judgment, May lent Jesse the money to make the trip, but only on the condition that he resume therapy upon his return. He agreed to the stipulation and made his plane reservations and therapy appointment. Three weeks later he was sitting in front of Dr. Hastings at Cambridge University.

For this one hour interview, Jesse Aarons had bet the rest of his life, and for the first forty-five minutes it seemed a life was to be lost. Hastings, as with all other Temporal Transit theorists, had concluded that travel backwards in time was, as the rest of the world already knew, utterly impossible. As with moving an object at speeds approaching that of light, where the cost in energy became infinite, so moving an object backwards in time would require infinite energy. The explanation was only partly shocking to Jesse, for he knew that this last hope was a gamble with hugely unfavorable odds.

But Hastings saw the effect his words had on his guest and offered a sincere apology. Having seen many regrets within his own life, he had guessed correctly that the brash American was interested in time travel for personal reasons more than pure science. "Lad, there is a reason we can't move back and forth in time, at least I've come to believe there is. We have one chance in life and have to make the most of it. Sometimes it isn't fair, often is damn tragic," he gave Jesse a knowing look. "But when all is said and done, I think you'll find you've… What is it, lad?" Jesse's face had gone blank for a moment and just as suddenly lit up.

"Dr. Hastings, you…you may be right, maybe we do only have one chance. But…but, _maybe…_ what about this: All your studies into temporal transit dealt with moving some _thing_ back in time, a concrete object with mass, volume, and energy, correct?"

Hastings looked suspiciously at his guest for a few seconds before answering. "Yes, of course. We didn't see much point in moving _nothing_ back in time."

To a very startled Chairman of the Physics Department at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, seeing a slightly barmy American laugh in his face was a little more than unusual. But it was also curious. Throughout history, Hastings knew, science - and life itself - had found meaning and advancement with one person or another's epiphanies. _It's probably nothing_, he thought silently, _then again…_

"Tell me what you are thinking, Mr. Aarons," he said most seriously, curiosity plain in his question.

Jesse continued to smile, to the point where Hastings was becoming a tad alarmed. Then he spoke. "Sir, what _would_ it take to move… _nothing_ backwards in time?"

Hastings nearly rebuked Jesse but saw he was in earnest. _What is he thinking?_ the older man asked himself a second time. "I… I don't understand."

"Yes, sir, you do! You just don't know it yet. Please," Jesse held up a hand, he was almost hyperventilating again with excitement, an old habit he'd never broken. "Dr. Hastings, if you knew I had the answer to the most pressing question in your life, but I had died a few days ago, how would you find the answer to the question?"

"Hypothetically speaking, I suppose I would use the device – the same one which I have proven impossible to build - and go back and ask you. But Mr. Aarons, this is…most unusual. Do you have an idea of some sort?"

"_YES!_" Jesse shouted, startling the old man. "Sorry. That's just it! I have an _idea_: a _thought_. Dr. Hastings, you couldn't use your device to send yourself back because it would be impossible. So don't send yourself back, send the only part of you without mass or volume. Do you see now?"

Hastings did not immediately understand. At least he did not believe he understood. But he found himself halfway into shaking his head _no_ before he stopping. "A…message in a bottle?"

"Yes, and no. A message in a bottle has mass. Leave off the bottle and the paper within."

Now Hastings completed shaking his head. "Lad, if there's no bottle and no message there's nothing. I'm sorry, but… _Now what?!_" Hastings growled; Jesse was laughing again. He had been willing, earlier, to concede an interesting theoretical question to Aarons, but now?

"I apologize, sir, I meant no disrespect.

"Go on…" Hastings started to say when the intercom on his desk buzzed. "Busy, Anna, give me another half hour." He switched the device off.

"Sir, you and your group of esteemed colleagues are absolutely correct: You couldn't send so much as that message you just gave to Anna back in time. But what about this, sir: A thought? A memory? They have no mass, no volume, yet are powerful enough in themselves to defy Einstein at a whim. Right this second I can be on a planet in the Andromeda galaxy, in my thoughts – thousands of light-years away. There _are_ no barriers, outside of our own imagination, where thought cannot travel. If my thoughts can defy relativity, why not…?"

"Hold on, lad," Hastings interrupted, and looking far more interested in the conversation. "I see what you're getting at. It's original, I'll give you that. _Bloody_ _Hell, it's damn intriguing_. But how would you catch a thought or memory, store it, and transmit it? And how could you possibly be sure it got to the correct person?"

"Well, sir, I didn't say it would be easy," Jesse admitted sheepishly. "I was hoping you could help me."

* * *

_Over the next 4 months he was seen weekly in psychotherapy and treated with tricyclic antidepressants. Once the antidepressants reached an adequate blood level, they evoked significant side effects (e.g., tachycardia) and had to be changed. He was placed on MAOIs after TCAs were ineffective or poorly tolerated and complained bitterly about the diet restrictions for ripe fruit, brewer's yeast, and red wine. When SSRIs became available, they were prescribed. Finding the effective antidepressant without intolerable side effects was a challenge._

* * *

A month later Jesse received a long correspondence from his new English friend. Much of what it said was expected, but Jesse looked for one piece of confirmation with his theory, and he found it.

…_We have concluded, therefore, that your hypothesis has merit: It _is_ theoretically possible for a non-mass, non-volume 'object' to travel backwards in time. However, in conceding this possibility we must also point out the severe, and very likely real probability, that a transit such as this could not be achieved due to our (current) inability to capture a thought, transmit the thought, and then have it merge with a sentient being who might understand the meaning of the message. And these are just some of the problems such research would face. The time-travel paradox would still apply; the moral, ethical and legal implications of such an action are, in our opinion, highly suspect; and not least of all, there is no way to ever know if the action was successful…_

Smiling, Jesse reread the affirming portion letter over and over.

…_we have concluded, therefore, that your hypothesis has merit: it _is_ theoretically possible for a non-mass, non-volume 'object' to travel backwards in time…_

Then he attacked the problems.

…_we must also point out the severe, and very likely real possibility that a transit such as this could not be achieved due to the (current) inability to capture a thought, transmit the thought, and then have it merge with a sentient being who might understand the meaning of the message._

Terabithia itself seemed to hold the key to solving the problems of capturing and transmitting a thought, or as Jesse had come to think of it, a message. Since Terabithia existed in his mind, it knew no limits of time and space.

But this brought up another problem: if he sent a message back in time, he could not be both the originator of the message and the transmitter. If that were possible then his thoughts and wishes for Leslie to live again, shortly after she died, would have already been realized. No, Jesse knew he had to separate himself from the message; someone or something else had to transmit it for him. But who, or what?

There were a few possibilities: He could ask May to send the message back, but Terabithia did not exist in her mind the same way it had in his and Leslie's. So the likelihood of success using his sister was very low.

He could create a new persona in Terabithia whose sole purpose was to move the message back to 2007, but once again, it would be an imperfect medium since it did not know Leslie.

This perplexing puzzle finally resolved itself just a few weeks before Jesse's last visit to May in 2025. There was one powerful entity in Terabithia who knew both himself and Leslie intimately: The Dark Master. But to gain the Dark Master's cooperation would be very difficult and dangerous. The being represented all of his and Leslie's fears, and fed on them. And though Leslie's contribution to the Dark Master's power had died along with her, his own more than made up for it. He was sure the nightmares and the Dark Master were somehow connected.

So what could he offer the Dark Master in return for his cooperation? This would be something requiring a great deal of thought.

The final obstacles to Jesse's great experiment centered around the last problem Dr. Hastings mentioned: how could he be sure that the message melded with the correct person and how could he be certain the recipient understood the message? Upon reflection, Jesse came up with the answer. If he sent the message to himself, at a specific time and place where it would make sense, there should be no problem. But the unknown factor here _was_ the message. Could it (and should it) be of unlimited length? And what could he do to prevent a paradox?

Deciding there _was_ nothing he could do about the paradox issue, without abandoning his quest altogether, Jesse resolved to limit possible ill consequences by making the message very short. For days he worked, sleeplessly, on the words to use. Since the message had to be delivered at a time in the past when he was aware of Terabithia, a warning to _not_ create the imaginary world would not work. No, he needed something short, direct, meaningful, and convincing. So he thought back in time to the spring of 2007, looking for a specific event that, given the proper message, would supply his earlier self a concrete idea that would save Leslie's life. After much consideration he found it.

Jesse knew time was short as the later half of June 2025 passed. Sleep, now, was nearly impossible, and was filled with nightmares when it came. It was just a matter of steeling himself for something he had tried unsuccessfully once before: Suicide. His faith rebelled against the choice, but his heart embraced it. If the past eighteen years had not been pure Hell, he might have reconsidered. Living with his selfish decision to have Ms. Edmonds all to himself on the trip into Washington, he knew, was what had cost Leslie her life. _If I'd been there…_ he reflected, _if I'd been there_. Even the Leslie Burke in his nightmares knew he should have been with her.

Choking back sobs, Jesse finished the letter he would soon give to May. He left another shorter note to the rest of his family on the rickety desk in his slum-like apartment. Then, after showering and changing, he left for the last time and went to see his favorite sister.

* * *

_Patient J had only slight insight into his level of depression and distress until he was face to face with the therapist or the consulting psychiatrist. Treating his depression was challenging because of the adverse effects from antidepressants and because he effectively hid his alcohol abuse. After nearly a year of antidepressants and therapy, Patient J requested electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), because it appeared more effective and more affordable than medications and therapy. He had a good response from his ECT treatments but then decided he needed in-depth Jungian therapy to explore early childhood issues. Dr. X referred him to a mentor with expertise in Jungian therapy._

* * *

It had been eighteen years, almost to the day, since Jess Aarons had dared to step out of his world and return to the realm of Terabithia. Not that he hadn't wished to, by any means, but the pain and depression he had been able to suppress all those years faced him again as he stared across the creek into the heavily overgrown woods. It was almost time to go back for the final journey, to see the rusted old car, the rotting tree house, and the myriad of sounds and smells that he had forced from his mind for so long. But not yet. There was one more thing to do. He carefully crossed the bridge and closed his eyes. A moment later it was done.

With his heart in his throat, Jesse left the woods and re-crossed the bridge.

Walking the all too familiar road to his parent's former house took him past what remained of the Burke home, now just a pile of burned-out timbers and rusty metal fixtures pointing out of the ground at absurd angles. He'd heard years before that it had been destroyed by a lightening strike and fire. The claps of an approaching thunder storm, as if to remind the burned-out remains of their power, mocked the quiet of the moment. The property seemed to be cursed; _perhaps_, Jesse thought, _it was all for the better that it was gone_. He walked on and covered the final hundred yards to the bend in the road, the house lay beyond.

Rain started now, one of Virginia's patented downpours that cleared the sky of clouds after a few minutes, but left the soil soaked, the creeks swollen, and the air oppressive with humidity. Though he carried an umbrella, Jesse simply dropped it in the pooling ooze of mud at his feet. The rain came down in torrents.

Memories! He wanted to turn and see Leslie alive again, standing in the rain as he had last seen her, drenched, holding Prince Terian and smiling. But it was too much; he couldn't stand to do it again and be disappointed, he knew it would break his resolve.

Jesse stepped forward around the curve of the drive and saw his old home. _So familiar…_ To the right, the greenhouse was still kept up perfectly, as it had been the last few years. The porch light was still drawing insects. The meaningless faux-shutters remained, with the one next to the bathroom slightly crooked. But the last fifty yards of the driveway had been paved.

_At least I wouldn't track in too much mud_.

His finger went automatically to the doorbell, then withdrew; the resolution so strong earlier in the day was beginning to fail. Again he touched it, knowing…_hoping_, it would be the final time.

_It MUST be the final time_.

Swearing under his breath at his weakness, he pressed the button and heard the familiar buzzing inside. A shadow floated in the background and then the door flew open.

* * *

_Patient J had a rocky downhill course with occupational difficulties and several hospitalizations. When Dr. X learned that the Patient J had committed suicide, she had an overwhelming sense of loss, embarrassment, and anger. She felt numb and disconnected, although she went through the motions of business as usual and colleagues seemed not to notice anything different. While objectively realizing this may not have been anyone's fault, Dr. X contemplated what if this or that had been done. She felt guilty that she had not done something more, as though that might have forestalled suicide. Perhaps she should have more forcefully expressed her concerns about the potential consequences of the impasse to the analyst. Although she had not been the treating psychotherapist before the suicide, she wondered if the family and her colleagues would blame her in some way for not preventing the suicide. Although this seemed unrealistic, it remained a worry and concern._

* * *

"_Jesse!_" May cried in delight at the sight of her waterlogged brother. "You dumb-dumb, where's your umbrella?"

Smiling at the reproach, Jesse stepped into the house and shed his slicker and shoes before greeting his sister with a damp hug. "Hi, May. How's my favorite sister?"

"I'm fine." She hesitated, looking him over. "You, on the other hand, look like crap." May held her protesting brother still with a firm grip of her right hand while she pushed his long drenched hair out of his face with the other. "How's therapy going?"

"Oh, fine, I had my last session with him, um, last week… I'm going to try something different next," he added quickly, seeing his sister's scowl.

"Not like the last time, I hope."

"May, I don't want to fight… please?"

"That's just it, Jesse, you're not fighting, you're giving up," May scolded with the lower half of her face in a scowl. Throwing a towel to her brother, she tried to calm herself with some deep breaths. In the meantime, Jesse walked into the living room and flopped resignedly on the couch, wiping his face.

"Jesse, I love you more than anything, but you have to give her up, she's killing you."

It was the same old argument. Shaking his head, he answered, but not with the same answer he'd been giving for almost two decades. "I know, but it's been difficult. Um, and that's why I'm here, sis." His voice cracked with emotion.

As May looked down on her only brother she felt the same infuriating combination of rage and sympathy she had dealt with since Leslie Burke's death. She had had some hope for him in the weeks following the tragedy, but slowly, just as surely as the sun rose and set, Jesse had slipped back into the shell of depression he'd lived in before meeting his blonde friend. And along with his spirit and willingness to live, Terabithia seemed to have disappeared.

"Ok, then what? I mean, you _are_ always welcome, but… _honestly_, Jess!" Sitting next to her brother, May leaned into him and felt his unsteady breathing.

After a long pause, Jesse compose himself. "May, I need you to come with me…to…to Terabithia. One last time. It's time for me to say good bye."

Automatically, enthusiastically, she said yes, for this was something she had hoped for, wished for, _prayed_ for ever since the day Jesse had told her he wouldn't take her back a few weeks after the tragedy.

_But what caused his sudden change of heart? Just a moment ago he was…._ _Perhaps he IS finally accepting Leslie's death, a bit late, but this has to be good, doesn't it?_ she asked herself. "Of course, Jess, anything, you know that. I…I'm sorry I snapped a moment ago, it's just…"

"May, it's ok, really. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Jess, if it will help you, then yes, most definitely." The sincerity in his sister's face moved Jesse and he pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Ok, let's go," he announced, jumping up.

"_NOW?_"

"Sure, why not?"

"Jess, it's pouring outside. I don't even know if the bridge is still there."

"Don't worry, I checked, it's still there," Jesse said smiling. Then, pulling his alarmed sister up and towards the door, they were off. May managed to grab a rain coat from the hook in the hallway and slipped into it before they were in the deluge.

With a spark of cheer and determination she had not seen in her brother in many years, May ran along the now mud-infested driveway, past the Burke's old house and down _the path_. As they approached the bridge, barely visible through the driving rain, they saw the remnants of the old rope that had caused so much pain over the years. Feeling a brief hesitation in her brother, May wondered if he was losing his conviction, but before she could think further on the subject he yanked her arm and they continued the journey a few more yards.

And they were there.

The three thick tree trunks upon which the planks lay still looked solid, but the railing of the bridge was long gone. Jesse had told her years ago that the wood he'd used was of a good quality so she was not concerned on that point, either. What did draw her attention was the thin green layer of moss growth on the planks which they would have to traverse. That was bound to be slippery. It was only a few yards across but it suddenly looked like a football field to May when she considered the rushing water and rocks below.

Jesse, however, was not to be stopped. He had poised himself and his sister on the bank – on the brink – and now he had to carry through with his plan. Jesse had cried many tears through the years, but he hoped the ones he was shedding now would be the last for a long time. Maybe forever. If his sister could see the tears of pain and sorrow running down his face she would have surely run away. But the driving rain hid any trace of them and he tightened his grip. Without looking back he led them safely across.

"To Terabithia?"

Her voice was strangely constricted, but she answered nonetheless. "To Terabithia."

The walk past the old car and now crumbled tree house went by silently. It was a difficult path, much undergrowth that hadn't been present eighteen years earlier had sprung up and made the way slow. Thorns scraped their legs through clothing; they were both completely saturated and May's shoes threatened to pull off in the thickening muck. But they made it, without any real difficulties, to the tree house where it had started. And now, for Jesse, it was here that the end began.

He turned and faced his sister and saw that she knew.

But through the look of pure anguish etched over her still youthful face Jesse saw understanding. The funny thing was, he knew, his sister really did _not_ understand what he was doing, she only though she did.

"Jess?" Her voice was steady but he saw her shaking. First, he reached into a pocket and brought out the old foil tiara May used to wear. Without a word he placed it on her head. Then Jesse smiled at her and closed his eyes.

It happened just like it had years before, and earlier in the day. The rain stopped, the sun came out, a warm wind blew around them and dried their clothing which had turned into royal robes. They had returned to Terabithia.

* * *

_She felt a deep sadness and loss at Patient J's death. She had enjoyed Patient J, who was a bright, competent man with a delightful talent for drawing who valued family, work, friends, and community. On the one hand, she recognized that he was a high-risk patient whose depression was resistant and challenging; on the other hand, she felt angry and frustrated that the suicide had not been prevented and tempted to second-guess the therapist's decisions._

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, Jesse saw his sister beaming at him as she hadn't done for a very long time. He also knew he was about to hurt her deeply.

"May, you _must_ stay nearby for me. I need your strength." He stopped, there were tears flowing freely down his sister's cheeks now.

_She knows…_

He nodded. "I have to do this, sis - you know I do. But it's not what you think it is…"

May fell to the forest floor and cried bitterly as her brother looked on. He tried to talk to her a few times but she would only push him away. Finally, knowing he had to proceed, he leaned over and kissed her head. Then he walked on.

Jesse struggled for a while through unfamiliar undergrowth until he found the secluded place that no one knew about: Not May, not even Leslie. When he needed to be alone he would sometimes sit there for a while and regain his strength. It was a retreat from both worlds he had lived in. Now it would become something else. He had an appointment to keep and couldn't be late. The price was already more than he should have promised, but it was what he truly believed was right.

Once there, he sat and waited, but not for long. A dark mist swirled and approached.

"So, _your majesty_," the voice sneered, "you _were_ serious. How commendable. Are you ready?"

"Even you, Dark Master, cannot break the laws of Terabithia. You will do as I say and as you promised." Keeping his voice steady and his head bowed, Jesse prayed it was true. The simple fact was that he didn't truly know _if_ the Dark Master _could_ do what he was being paid for.

"Are you ready then, Jesse Aarons?"

He sighed and nodded.

The sickening presence of the Dark Master swirled around him, he felt something forming in his mind . . . . then he pulled the trigger.

* * *

_When questioned at an informal review of this case, on or about June 28, 2025, the Jungian mentor confessed to inadequate monitoring of Patient J in the last two weeks of his life. A single traumatic childhood (Patient J age 12) event, the loss of a very close friend for which he blamed himself, redirected the mentor's line of therapy. Six days prior to the Patient J's suicide the mentor had the last session with the man at which time he showed concrete signs of delusional psychosis and schizophrenia. He learned of Patient J's suicide through a female sibling who gave him every assurance that her brother was far happier now than he had been since he was twelve. The sibling refused to consent to an interview and expressed a desire to be left alone and not contacted again._

* * *

A few hundred yards away, May's world went black.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	2. Part 1: The Words

**A Life Rescued  
Part 1  
Chapter 2 – The Words  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

"Did you forget something, Jess?"

Through the car window, Jesse sat looking at the Burke house nestled amid the trees, dew-soaked spider webs, and the mists of an early April morning. The twinge of selfishness he felt at accepting Ms. Edmonds offer to visit the National Portrait Gallery overrode a nagging shadow of guilt he had brushed aside, just as he had brushed aside Leslie's request the day before to do something together. But a sharp pain, like a knife cutting through his forehead, distracted him. He had heard Ms. Edmond's question and was about to reply, but what came out was very different from what he had planned to say.

"Can Leslie come with us?"

_Where the heck did that come from?_ Jesse asked himself. Then he realized he was staring at Ms. Edmonds, his mouth opened in stupefied amazement.

"Jess, are you alright?"

"Yes, _NO!_ Yes, I mean…" The promise of something even remotely logical coming out seemed quite remote at that point, so Jesse said nothing more.

_Why did I ask for Leslie to go with us?_ he again asked himself. Glancing back at his music teacher he saw a concerned look on her face.

"Did you have plans with Leslie you forgot about? It's fine, Jess, if…"

"No, we, I mean I, I mean…" _Jesse, shut up!_ He groaned and put his head in his hands. He also realized that the headache had intensified. In fact, it was far worse than he had ever experienced before. In fact, it hurt so badly he…

Turning swiftly, and moving faster than he thought possible, Jesse pawed at the door handle and seatbelt lock until both released. He was just able to get out of the car before vomiting up the breakfast he'd consumed minutes earlier. Groaning, dizzy, and embarrassed beyond words, Jesse remained on his hands and knees, gagging. He heard the other car door open and footsteps approaching.

_Aw, crap!_

"Jess, my goodness, you look green."

There was something disturbingly truthful in his teacher's assessment that made him shiver. And why not? He felt green. But the pain in his head was subsiding and his mind was clearing quickly.

"Here, Jess, let me help you up." Ms. Edmonds placed her arm under Jesse's and helped him back into the front seat of the car. Though it had been only a minute or two, Jesse felt that whatever was affecting him had cleared. What concerned him more was the approach of another person.

"Jess? Is that you?" asked the calm voice of Bill Burke. "I though I heard someone out here." He then turned to the woman. "Do I know you…?"

"Hello, Mr. Burke, I'm Ms. Edmonds, Jess and Leslie's music teacher. Jess and I were just headed up to Washington when he got sick."

"I'm not sick. I feel fine."

"You just vomited: You're sick."

"Jess, she's right. It might have passed already but you can't go off like this. Let me walk you home."

"I'm _NOT_ sick, Mr. Burke, I really want to go with Ms…."

"No, the trip is cancelled," Ms. Edmonds declared. "We'll reschedule sometime this summer."

Another set of footsteps, these more familiar, approached at a rapid pace, but stopped a few feet away. "Ew, gross! Did you do that, Jess?" asked Leslie.

Another violent stab of pain shot through Jesse's head when he heard her voice. He tried to reply but only succeeded in falling forward and vomiting again, this time on Mr. Burke's left foot.

"Ah, yes, 'something foul is afoot'," Mr. Burke quipped dryly. "Jess, I do believe this settles the question of you going out today. Now, shall I walk you home?"

This time there was no argument. Jess stood, holding his head in his hands at the renewed pain. But when Mr. Burke took a squishy sounding step he reconsidered. "Hmmm. Jess, I do believe I'll go and wash off my foot and let Ms. Edmonds take you home."

Looking up, Jesse was not sure the music teacher really appreciated getting the job back.

"It's ok, Ms. Edmonds, I'll roll down the window and hang my head out." He paused for a second and then turned back. "Bye, Leslie."

The still sleepy-eyed blonde girl laughed, waving her hand in front of her face. "See you later, and try brushing your teeth, too, Jess."

Back again in Mrs. Edmonds car, Jesse watched Leslie and her father walk back to their house. He hadn't noticed it before, but both were still in their PJs and Mr. Burke was holding his left slipper at arms length. A smile came to his face at the sight of the two, and a small twinge of jealousy, also. They had a parent-child relationship he envied.

* * *

Back in bed, Jesse was able to sleep a couple more hours and woke near ten o'clock feeling much recovered. May Belle was playing quietly on her bed with one of Leslie's old Barbie dolls, apparently trying to find a combination of outfits that resembled her idea of Terabithian royal dress. Not having had much success, she switched to blue and pink Kleenex.

"You look better, Jess. Mom said you threw up all over Mr. Burke. Was he mad?"

Clearing the sleep from his eyes, Jesse scowled. "It was just his foot, but yeah, I guess he was. I'd be if someone barfed on my shoe."

"No you wouldn't," May Belle said happily, holding a doll out for inspection. "I threw up in you sneakers last fall and you said it wasn't a problem."

Groaning at the memory, Jesse conceded the point with a smile and compliment on the gown. Making his way to the bathroom he showered and then, heeding Leslie's advice, brushed his teeth - twice. As he exited into the hallway, May Belle ran up to him and gave him the phone.

"It's your girlfriend again," she giggled.

Jesse snatched the phone from his sister. "Hello?"

"Jess, how are you feeling?" a familiar voice asked, but it wasn't Leslie's.

"Um, who is this?"

"Jess, it's Ms. Edmonds. Did you forget my voice already?" He heard her laugh into her end of the line.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were… never mind. Yeah, I feel fine now. I'm sorry about that, um, being sick and all." In point of fact, he was still embarrassed beyond words but managed to keep his voice even.

"It happens; we won't talk of it again." Her voice faded - Jesse could tell she was using her cell phone. When it returned all he heard of her last comment was, "…to keep me company. Sounds like the signal is going. I'm glad you're better. I'll see you Monday."

The signal cut her off before he had the chance to stop his reply: "Bye," he said into the dead line.

Jesse spent the rest of his morning doing chores and listening to his older sisters bicker about who had to prepare lunch. Their mother had gone into town for something and his father was at work. Between taking care of the baby (which his sisters should have been doing) and his usual responsibilities, he also took time to look through his back pack for any homework assignments he'd forgotten. There was one. In a bit of a panic, he reviewed the math project and muttered a contemptuous comment about Mr. Thomas, the math teacher.

"For a guy who seems nice, he's a real jerk," he said aloud, believing no one was around.

"Who's a jerk, Jess?" May Belle asked in a loud voice, startling him to the point that he spastically lost hold of his school books and papers, sending them flying.

"May! Don't do that," he snapped angrily, though more because of his less than artful rearrangement of his burden than with his sister unexpected comment.

"Sorry, Jess," the little girl said contritely. Then more cheerfully, "Do you like Barbie, Princess of …? What should she be Princess of, Jess?" She proudly showed her brother the results of the morning's work.

Jesse _was_ impressed with the doll. "How about…Terabithia?" he whispered. May Belle gave him a huge smile.

"It's our secret, Jess."

He apologized for raising his voice, congratulated his sister and, and then gently told her to get ready for lunch. Looking as if it was the happiest day of her life, May Belle ran back up to her room.

Standing, thinking for a few seconds, Jesse felt a wave of satisfaction spread into his chest, it was a warm feeling of accomplishment. Since Leslie had told May Belle about Terabithia, the siblings' relationship had improved.

When lunch was over, and without anything in particular to do, Jesse decided to call Leslie to see if she wanted to do their math homework together. She was a level ahead of him and he hoped she could explain some of the concepts of algebra they were just starting to learn. With numbers, Jesse had no problem. But put letters in the equation and everything fell apart. He grabbed the phone, just as Nancy was about to use it and ran up to his parents room for privacy. Dialing the Burke's house, he sat and waited through five rings.

The voice that answered was breathless and was barely able to gasp out a polite, "Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Burke, this is Jess. May I speak with Leslie, please?"

A couple more gulps of air followed before Mrs. Burke replied. "Sorry, Jess, I just came in from jogging. Leslie left a note, she's out walking the dog. You might be able to find her down by the creek, I thought I saw her as I came in the house." A few more gulps of air and she continued, "Are you feeling better? Bill said you were sick this morning."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm fine now, thank you. It was probably just something I ate. I'll go look for Leslie."

Jesse knew it wouldn't be hard to find his friend. They had walked PT down the same road together many times and she only went as far as the rope swing. He looked at his pink sneakers, sighed, put them on, and ran out the door. Not long after passing the Burke's house he saw PT jumping and barking happily a couple hundred yards ahead. A stick appeared from the trees to the left and sailed over the dog's head; he immediately turned and shot off after it. Knowing who it was ahead, Jesse halved the distance in a few seconds and shouted out, "Hey! Leslie!"

Her happy face appeared, poking out from around a tree. "Hi, if you're feeling better wanna go?" She thumbed in the direction of their tree house across the creek, her standard invitation to Terabithia. Jesse feigned a stomach ache and mimed vomiting, his friend giggled and called for PT.

Sprinting the final hundred yards, Jesse turned at the tree, looking for Leslie and PT. But they weren't there. What he saw next stunned him. The rope – the top half of the rope, its end shredded – was still swaying over the rain-swollen creek. Time froze and Jesse really did feel nauseous as he scanned the far bank, hoping Leslie had made it, but knowing she hadn't. For just a few seconds – though they seemed like hours – Jesse called out his friend's name but heard no reply.

Then he saw PT, struggling to keep his head above water about thirty yards down the stream. If _PT's in the water, Leslie must be, too_, Jesse realized. But she was nowhere to be seen. He looked left, back up the road and saw no one; he was nearly frozen with panic.

The next thing Jesse recalled experiencing was the sensation of falling, followed by an icy blast against his skin. His left shin struck something hard, tearing his pants and forcing a agonized scream from his mouth. He was in the creek.

The cold shock refocused him on why he was there, though he could recall nothing of how he had arrived in the water. Pushing up with his right leg, his left hurt too much to use, he came to the surface, sputtering and calling out Leslie's name. PT could still be heard far downstream now, barking and yelping. Sinking again under the weight of his waterlogged clothes, he sprung up, off the creek bed. But his feet had pushed off of something that was neither mud nor rock.

_Leslie?_

Steadied by a thick root he was holding, Jesse reached with his hand, afraid to go under. He felt down the steep bank three feet or so and found something that should not be in the creek: a cold unmoving hand. His efforts had pulled him deeper into the water than he intended and he had to let go of the hand for a moment to get another breath of air. While on the surface he screamed at the top of his voice, hoping Mr. or Mrs. Burke – or anyone – would hear his cry for help. Without waiting for more time than it took him to refill his lungs, Jesse dove back into the blackness.

It took only a few seconds for him to find the hand flowing limply in the current. He took hold of the arm and pulled himself down to Leslie's torso, releasing the root. His friend was not heavy, but under the water she felt like she weighed a ton. He placed one hand under her knees and the other under her back and pushed up, off of the bottom of the stream.

It didn't work. The two completely waterlogged children weighed more than enough to keep them below the surface – forever, though Jesse did manage to get his head briefly into the air, but he was pulled right back down. On the verge of complete panic, his chest protesting, demanding he gulp in the water if no air was available, he had one last idea. He let go of Leslie, except for one wrist, to which he clung for life, and again sprang to the surface. This time it worked. Gulping in air and sputtering out water, he found solid footing and brought his other hand down to pull Leslie up. In a few seconds her head was above the water, but the young face was ashen and its lips blue. But what disturbed Jesse most was the blood gushing from a long, deep cut across her scalp.

Jesse knew some first aid, his elementary school had sponsored a basic class earlier in the year, but the gash was far beyond what a Band-Aid could fix. His fear that Leslie was dead, however, instantly vanished. If she's bleeding her heart is still pumping! The small pool of water in her mouth, however, told him she was not breathing. She would need artificial respiration…

_That I know!_

Again cradling the limp body, Jesse managed to throw her up upon a low part of the embankment and pull himself out of the water in spite of his leg pain. Rising, mainly on his one good leg, he took Leslie's wrists and dragged her a couple yards away from the creek and prepared to start the assisted breathing.

_Check the mouth for obstructions, lift the neck and tilt the head back..._

Jesse placed two fingers down her throat and pulled the back of her tongue forward.

_Pinch the nostrils and seal the mouth, and exhale directly into the victim's mouth… ok…_

He heard himself lash out at someone but later had no recollection of who he had said it to, or what he had said.

_Release the nostrils and the seal around the mouth. Watch for the victim's chest to rise by itself._

Nothing!

_Feel for a pulse on the victim's neck._

Rapid.

_If the victim's chest does not start to rise on its own, repeat this process until professional help arrives… _

_Great, and when will that be?_

Jesse had completed three cycles before he felt or saw any change. As he was about to start the forth, Leslie coughed and then vomited out a large quantity of water. She struggled to breathe for a few seconds, coughing out more fluids, then it was over: she was breathing on her own. Jesse held his place leaning over her and for the first time since jumping into the creek was fully aware of his surroundings.

Mr. Burke was kneeling in the mud next to Leslie, holding her head. Mrs. Burke was, at that moment, returning from their house, sprinting all out, carrying blankets and speaking into her cell phone. She slipped in the mud and slid the final few feet to her daughter. If he hadn't been so completely terrified and exhausted, Jesse thought he might have laughed.

Turning his attention back to the girl, Jesse saw Mr. Burke pressing a now blood-soaked piece of clothing to Leslie's cut head. It was his own t-shirt. A wave a disorientation and queasiness overcame Jesse again and he collapsed on the ground next to his best friend. He was not unconscious, yet, just totally spent, and the pain in his left leg was becoming excruciating. Then his eyes began to shut, he felt dog-tired and knew he had to rest. The last thing Jesse recalled was Mrs. Burke saying she could hear the siren of the rescue squad, and May Belle crying.

* * *

Jesse had never been to Roanoke Valley Hospital before, but even as he was waking up he was sure that was where he was. Hospitals, like dentist's offices and veterinary clinics, have deeply ingrained smells unique to them. Jesse's room, or ward – he still wasn't sure which – was definitely part of a hospital. It was just too clean, hot, and medicine-smelling to be anything else.

He tried to open his eyes but they felt sealed shut. Bringing one hand up, he massaged his lids and managed to work through the encrustations holding them shut. After a minute he succeeded and saw for the first time what the inside of a hospital looked like. He was in a large room with seven other beds, of which only three, not including his own, were occupied. All the boys had casts on various parts of their body. One, the closest to him, was in traction and had an evil looking bolt sticking out of his skin just below his knee with wires and weights attached to an equally frightening looking assembly above the bed.

"Pretty wicked, isn't it?" the African-American boy asked cheerfully, and with not a small amount of pride. "They almost had to cut it off, but the doc said she worked on me for seven hours! I'll be in here for weeks. At least the food's good."

Jesse saw he was tall and very thin and suspected he was undernourished. The Roanoke area was full of the poor and impoverished, perhaps this boy was one of them.

"My name's George," he continued, waging his hand again as if to shake Jesse's. "What happened to you?"

A good question! "Um, I don't know. I was…" But before he could continue, a smallish girl bound through the ward door and started calling out, "He's awake! He's awake! Jesse's awake!"

May Belle ran to Jesse's bed and threw her arms around him, but instead of talking up a storm as he had expected, she started crying piteously. Looking over her head, Jesse saw his parents, both with smiles on their face, possibly bigger than he'd ever seen, standing at the door with Mr. and Mrs. Burke. His parents had not known Leslie's parents before this point, but that was obviously a thing of the past. His mother was holding Joyce Ann, and even Ellie and Brenda were there.

_Is that flowers they're holding? Maybe I'm really dead…_

Then Jesse froze. Leslie? He set May Belle down as quickly and gently as he could and started to get up. Before he had so much as thrown off his blankets, all four adults, a newly arrived linebacker-sized nurse, and his two older sisters were admonishing him to stay where he was. But it didn't matter, Jesse realized, he wasn't going anywhere. For the first time since he had awoken he looked down towards his feet. There, covering three-quarters of his left leg, was a cast. It was complete with wires and bolts, much like the one George had, but without the extensive rigging.

Collapsing back into bed, Jesse turned and asked, "Is Leslie ok?" The smiles from her parents gave him the answer.

An hour later, with visiting hours nearly over and the stories told and retold, Jesse's parents rolled his bed to the large picture-window next to the ward door that led to the corridor. He had no idea why this was happening, he was too happy from hearing that Leslie was alive to be alarmed by much of anything. The pain killers he was receiving had something to do with that, also. Mrs. Aarons opened the curtain while her husband cranked up the top end of Jesse's bed. When raised, Jack Aarons silently pointed out the window and Jesse discovered the reason for all the activity.

Across the hallway was another window, its curtain also open, with a child – a girl – in a bed like his. She wore a neck brace, her head had been shaved and a bandage ran down one side of her head, from crown to right ear, with the telltale marks of sutures barely visible beneath. She looked like a soccer ball. She looked like Leslie! The girl managed a small smile at seeing her friend: she waved, mouthed what looked like a _thank you_, and then lay back down, obviously exhausted.

A few minutes later, Jesse Aarons fell soundly asleep, ending the happiest and most frightening day of his life.

Not far off, Judy and Bill Burke held their daughter gently while saying goodnight. That was something of an accomplishment in itself, trying to show her the intimacy she deserved and not touch her battered head or braced neck. She was barely awake, too. "Goo' night, Mom…love you. Love you, Daddy." She hadn't called her father 'Daddy' in three years.

Judy stood up to give her husband more room. He leaned closer and whispered into his daughter's ear, "Love you, too, Les," and started to stand, but a hand came up quickly to stop him.

"Did you say Jess saved me?" she asked groggily.

"Yes, he did. He's a very good friend."

Leslie muttered something unintelligible and her father almost let it go, but having seen his only child near death, he was unwilling to miss anything she might say.

"What was that, Les?"

"Love 'im."

"Yes, I know."

* * *

While Leslie was sleeping soundly, her parents sat at the far end of the girl's ward to prevent waking their daughter while they talked. Both were still spattered with her blood, she had required two units to make up for what she'd lost in the accident. But Leslie's parents were fully aware that they had been extraordinarily lucky that day. Any one of a number of events could have easily left their daughter dead. If Jesse hadn't become sick he wouldn't have been there to save Leslie… If May Belle hadn't followed her brother and heard his cry for help… If Jesse hadn't been able to pull Leslie out of the water with his shin bone broken – a feat the doctor had told them must have been hideously painful. The list went on, but both realized that it was primarily through Jesse's intervention that their only child was alive.

A sense of failure, unspoken, but real to both, silenced their quiet conversation of the last hour. Both parents had expected that their presence at home, a benefit of successful writing careers, would expose Leslie to fewer bumps and scrapes. But it had not; certainly not physically or emotionally. Her first days at the new school had been like all the others at the old ones. Bill liked to tease his wife by saying Leslie was a cross between Annie Oakley and your every-day garden variety tom-boy. Judy would, on these occasions, remind her husband that Leslie was a carbon copy of her father in every way but gender and appearance.

It was not long after their move to the quiet Appalachian town of Lark Creek that Leslie began to act happier. They suspected she had made some new friends and tried to question her about it. But the only point they could glean from her reserved responses was that it was a single person. They would not press her for more details; however, they correctly deduced that the person was male since her few friends at other schools had all been females and she readily told them their names. The gender of her new friend really did not matter, they knew, it was the acceptance of the person that was significant. As the weeks passed and they learned about Jesse Aarons it was obvious the two children had grown into a mutually beneficial relationship.

The satisfaction and gratitude the parents felt for Jesse befriending their daughter was beyond words, but both parents understood the other's thoughts. Leslie had not been the only one to benefit from the friendship. Jesse, they'd heard, had been a loner, too, and a target of bullies at school.

"Jude, she loves him. You know that, don't you?" Bill said, in almost a whisper to his spouse and with a smile barely perceptible on his tired face.

"Yes, she told me… but they're so young. Do you think Jess feels the same?"

He smiled and nodded. "I know, she doesn't really understand the word yet, but they both understand friendship. I'd rather she have one good friend like Jess than a dozen failed loves." Bill spoke the words as though he was quoting from some ancient sage. "Jude, something happened back at the creek that I haven't told you about." He pronounced _creek_ like _crick_.

Judy simply nodded, waiting for the rest of the story.

"When you ran off to get the towels and blanket, Jess started to give Leslie artificial respiration. He was doing perfectly fine, obviously," he nodded at their daughter, "but I tried to get him to let me take over." Bill stopped, his emotions beginning to spill over.

"What is it, Bill?" she asked with concern.

"I…I don't think Jess knew what he was doing, but he shoved me away. Pretty roughly, too, for a ten-year old. And between almost every breath he was saying something even though he could barely talk from the cold and everything else. It sounded like he said, 'Can Leslie come with us'?"

"'Can Leslie come with us?' What does that mean?"

"I think…I'm not certain, but I think it has to do with their music teacher, Ms. Edmonds. When I saw Jess this morning he was with her and she told me they were going up to D.C. to the National Portrait Gallery when Jess asked if Leslie could go with them." Bill twisted his neck back and forth to relieve tension and waited for a response.

"Jess's mother told me she didn't know he was going anywhere. What does this have to do with Leslie, Bill?"

"I don't know, probably nothing. But think about this: If Jess had gone with Ms. Edmonds…" He pointed to their daughter again. Judy Burke understood. "But he asked if Les could go with them. It's eerie, like he knew he had to be near her today."

"Look, Bill, we're both emotionally and physically beat, and you've been writing too much fiction lately. I think we just have to thank…" she had almost said 'God,' "…we have to be thankful that it turned out as well as it did." Leaning against her husband, Judy ended the conversation with a brief kiss.

"You want the night watch?" asked Bill a minute later.

"Yeah, you go home and rest. We'll see you tomorrow."

With that, Bill left his wife and daughter to drive home for the night. Judy Burke, after a final goodnight kiss on her daughter's poorly shaven head, looked into the boy's ward. Jesse was sleeping, too, along with the other three boys. His father, she was not surprised to see, was kneeling at his bedside, obviously in prayer. With an unconscious motion, she blew a kiss to Jesse, as she used to do with her daughter, and returned to the girl's ward. Glancing one last time at Leslie, seeing her soundly sleeping, she left for the guest room the children's ward supplied for the parents of their patients. The room smelled like a hospital and the bed was lumpy and uncomfortable, but it didn't matter. Judy Burke was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	3. Part 1: The Healing

**A Life Rescued  
Part 1  
Chapter 3 – The Healing  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

The following morning, Jesse Aarons woke to the sound of his father snoring. Jesse Senior, _Jack_ to his wife and friends, was sitting awkwardly in the chair next to the bed with his head resting at a painful looking angle on the edge of the night stand. A small rivulet of drool was dripping from his gaping mouth to his spittle-stained pant leg. Jesse watched amusedly for a few minutes as each viscous drop was partially sucked back into his mouth by a snore until it had grown to a proportion where no amount of human inhalation could prevent it from falling. Then, in a graceful yet somewhat disgusting way, the drop would reach his leg. The long line of dribble tailing behind would snap, part joining with either its downward destined denim fabric or upwards to seed the next drop. It was a side of his father that Jesse knew nothing about, but was sure to remember.

Aside from the discomfort of having his leg in a cast that prevented him from sleeping on his stomach – his usual nocturnal position – and an odd dream about causing someone to miss an appointment, Jesse had enjoyed a restful night. The morning sunlight was filling the ward with an orange-yellow hue and George, in the bed two down from his, was squinting at a comic book in the pale light. The other two boys were still sleeping, but not for long. The clock changed from six fifty-nine to seven and, in what must have been a well rehearsed process, four nurses, including the linebacker from the previous night, walked in, each rolling a cart with towels, sponges, and small cups of pills.

"Good morning, boys," each chirped cheerfully, including the linebacker who was closing the curtain on the hall window and then heading to Jesse's bed. "Time for your bath."

_Bath?!_

Nurse Linebacker pulled the privacy curtain around Jesse's little world and brought the cart up next to his bed. The momentary flutter of noises induced by the four white-clad women had woken up Mr. Aarons who was now busily trying to hide any evidence of his earlier oral oozing. As he stood and saw what the nurse was preparing to do, and seeing the look of horror on his son's face, Jack Aarons patted Jesse on the shoulder and with a knowing look said, "I was your age when I had my appendix out, Jesse. It'll be over soon." He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and made a quick exit.

_Thanks, Dad._

After the morning wash-up was complete (during which Jesse heard various complaints from the other boys on the ward) Nurse Linebacker asked him if he could use the toilet himself or needed assistance. Though never having been incapacitated, or ever having to use crutches, he assured the nurse he could make it there on his own. For the most part he did, too, though it was a bit awkward to pee and balance yourself while on a strong painkiller and crutches. But Jesse didn't know about the analgesic yet and assumed all went well until he returned to his bad and Nurse Linebacker announced that he needed a change of gown. She looked as disgusted about the situation as Jesse felt and left muttering about 'boys' and 'poor aim.'

A while later Jesse's father returned to say he had to go to work and that his mother would be in around noon. At eight o'clock breakfast was brought in and the boy's beds were moved closer together so they could talk more easily. They were also told (or reminded) that physical therapy would start at ten. The other three boys groaned; Jesse was immensely curious as to why, but didn't ask.

The boys sharing the ward were as different as any four boys could be. George, Jesse soon found out, was an orphan and had been living with a foster family when his leg was crushed in a biking accident. Billy, the lethargic small-nosed big-mouth kid across from Jesse grated on him and reminded Jesse of the bullies at school. He had a badly fractured hip, the result of a car accident. Steve, another African-American, was quiet and seemed to dislike George, but acted like he thought Jesse was an ok kid. He was the victim of a drive-by shooting where a bullet had passed messily through his left femur and lodged in his right. After quizzing his ward-mates, Jesse should have been more prepared to tell his own personal story of how he had landed in the hospital, but when asked he suddenly felt embarrassed at having not been hit by a car or bullet; saving a girl's life seemed wimpy – not nearly macho enough to brag about. Billy snickered nastily at Jesse's uneasiness, but he was rescued by a voice behind him.

"He hurt himself saving someone's life."

Jesse turned and saw Mr. Burke approaching slowly. He stopped at the bed and asked Jesse how he was feeling, all the while eyeing Billy. The too-tough youth turned on his side as best he could and didn't say another word. But George did.

"Wicked!" This seemed to be his favorite word. "Are you going to be in the papers or on television?" Both Jesse and Mr. Burke said no at the same time, and rather forcefully. George's hands shot up in mock-surrender. "Ok, just asking. So… what happened?"

Jesse's morning was saved and the boys nodded with appropriate respect when the story was finished. Even Billy, who was doing a poor job at pretending he was asleep, sat up again and acted decent, for a while.

As ten o'clock approached Jesse noticed that the other three boys were becoming fidgety and looking repeatedly towards the ward door. When he asked the reason George told him about their physical therapy, or 'PT' as it was called, and how painful it was. And even though Jesse could tell his chain was being yanked a bit, he began to throw paranoid glances at the door, too.

The time arrived and the troop of nurses who had come in earlier returned, but without Nurse Linebacker. His ward-mates all gave him mournful looks as the were wheeled off to the Torture Chamber, as George called it. About fifty-five minutes (and another visit from Mr. Burke) later, the three boys returned. This time he knew they were trying to scam him, they were all moaning and groaning pathetically and the nurses were wearing disgusted looks on their face. But Jesse waved cheerfully, until that is, Nurse Linebacker came in with a wheelchair and told him – in a no-nonsense tone - to climb in. The second trip off the bed went marginally better than the trip to the toilet, but he still managed to kick the nurse with his cast while maneuvering around the chair. The other boys cheered this as they all had, at one time or another, been under Nurse Linebacker's care. Then, with a half-hearted wave, Jesse was off.

His lack of enthusiasm lasted exactly four seconds. Upon exiting the ward and turning into the corridor, Jesse found he was to be joined by Leslie for the first session. Bruising from the trauma to her scalp had set in overnight and one could see the black and blue marks underneath a red scarf her father had brought in earlier to cover her shaved head. She smiled brightly when their eyes met, but Jesse could also see she was in pain and her eyes looked a little glassy, something he had noticed in his own earlier that morning in the bathroom. Mr. Burke, for the third time that day, greeted Jesse and the kids, and with their accompanying nurses traveled two floors up to the therapy center.

Both Jesse and Leslie learned that their time with the specialists was geared more to Occupational rather than Physical Therapy. In truth, while both were banged up quite a bit, neither were as incapacitated as the other boys in Jesse's ward. And that led to the first question of the day: What was Occupational Therapy? The therapist, a tall, thin, grey-haired man with the nametag identifying him as Rudolph, gave them the answer.

"OT is designed to help people with physical disabilities relearn the things they used to be able to do but no longer can as a result of their limitations. Jesse, you for example, besides learning to walk with crutches, can't take a shower for the next six weeks. We will walk you through how to do a sponge bath" Behind Rudolph, Mr. Burke was comically holding his nose and waving his hand in front of his face in feigned disgust. Leslie was trying heroically to remain attentive but could not help but giggle every now and then.

"Leslie, you will need to learn how to treat you scalp and keep it clean until your cut heals. And you'll have to do it without bending your neck." This time Bill Burke was doing a passable imitation of the Frankenstein monster, much to Jesse's delight.

Over the remainder of the hour both children learned how much their lives would be limited for a few weeks. The most serious drawback was that neither could do much physical activity, Jesse because of his leg and Leslie due to her concussion. They would both need a great deal of direct assistance, especially the first few days they were home, Rudolph pointed out.

"And when do we get to go home?" Leslie asked. She looked like she was fearing the answer.

The therapist checked their charts. "You're both scheduled to be out of here tomorrow, unless you have a setback."

"Both of us?!" they asked together, in obvious delight.

"Yep, unless you pull a stitch young lady, or Jesse can't bathe himself."

With his face reddening madly, Jesse threw the dry sponge he was holding to Rudolph. "Let's get started!"

It turned out that both had their own therapist and that the important things they had to remember were just matters of common sense or following the precisely written directions they received. At the end of the hour they left together, tired but excited, chatting all the way up to the wards. There would be another session just before dinner, but with their fears of therapy dispelled neither Jesse nor Leslie were apprehensive about it.

Nurse Linebacker returned Jesse to his ward were he found the other boys busily eating lunch. His own covered dish was awaiting his arrival on a rolling table. But as he was about to pull himself into bed, the nurse returned and told him to sit back down in the wheelchair. Shrugging at the unexpected request, Jesse did as he was told and was promptly rolled across the corridor to the girl's ward and next to Leslie's bed, a moment later his mother came in carrying his lunch tray. He wasn't sure how she had retrieved it so quickly since he had not seen her in the boy's ward or corridor. The answer was provided as Mrs. Aarons removed the tray of hospital food Leslie was eyeing suspiciously, replaced it with the one she had brought in, and took off the tray cover. In front of the two children was a meal unlike any they would find in most hospitals.

"Here you two are: salad, homemade stew with freshly baked bread," she reached into her purse and took out a large chocolate ship cookie and placed it in front of her son. A second trip into the purse brought forth a zip-lock bag with celery sticks which she gave to Leslie. "Jess said you preferred these over sweets."

"Wow! Thank you, Mrs. Aarons!" Leslie exclaimed to her benefactor. Then she turned to Jesse. "How did you know celery was my favorite veggie?"

"We guys can listen, too. Besides, you always snacked on them when I came to your house." She smiled again. "This is great, Mom, thanks," said Jesse as he prepared to dig into his stew.

"Wait, one more thing," Jesse's mother said in a dramatic voice, "Straight from the vine." She took out two bottles of grape juice, handing one to each of them.

Following another round of thank yous, Jesse and Leslie started eating while Mrs. Aarons and Mr. Burke walked off together to "Sample the hospital cuisine," leaving their progeny to have some time together, alone. When both had finished, Leslie complimented the food and leaned back to munch on a celery stalk. Jesse was just finishing his cookie so his friend held out her snack for him to have one.

"Try one, they're an interesting veggie. They have a negative calorie value."

"A what?"

"You burn more calories eating celery than you take in."

Nodding his head in understanding, Jesse tentatively reached over and took the shortest piece he could find. "Here goes," he said and crunched into the pale green edible plant. After a few chews he swallowed and grimaced. "It must be an acquired taste," he observed; however, he continued working on the stalk until Leslie began acting like a bunny eating a carrot and they both broke into constant giggling.

As the lunch break wore on and they finished their final bites of celery, Leslie, who was obviously becoming tired, turned to Jesse. "Jess, thanks for saving my life. I wish you hadn't gotten hurt, though."

Jesse could see that his friend was feeling guilty about his leg, but he told her to forget it and then changed the subject. "Don't worry about it, Leslie. Uh, earlier today the guys in my ward reminded me of something."

"I bet I know what you're going to say, Jess," she replied sleepily.

"Oh, really? What is it, wise-guy…um, girl?"

"PT, when the nurse told me I had 'PT' I remembered I was holding him… Do you know what happened?"

Shaking his head, Jesse recalled that he had last heard the dog barking and whimpering in the creek, which did not bode well for its fate. "Maybe your parents know. We can ask your father when he gets back, k?"

"Yeeeeeah," Leslie slurred the word with a yawn, fighting to keep her eyes open. "Gotta rest now, see you later."

"Ok, Leslie." He needn't have responded, his friend was already asleep.

Jesse sat in his chair watching Leslie sleep, beginning to feel heavy-eyed himself. She was an alarming sight, her bruised head held up straight by the brace; but seeing her was strangely soothing, too. He had not thought much about the events of the previous day until that point. Of course, they were foremost on his mind, but passively sitting, thus far undisturbed in his memory, waiting to be reviewed. Closing his eyes he pictured the entire event from the moment he saw Leslie point across the creek to him hearing May Belle crying just a few minutes later. The entire rescue had not lasted ten minutes, but it felt like hours as it replayed over and over in his mind's eye.

One part in particular stood out: him lifting Leslie out of the water and seeing her seemingly lifeless face. She looked so much like she had the day before that when she was running home in the rain and stopped to wave and smile at him. The two scenes were merging. He unconsciously shifted his wheelchair around to be closer to the bed. Closer to Leslie. As Jesse drifted into a deep slumber, the face of his friend, as he pulled her from the water, morphed into something very different. It had gone from death to life and then back to death again. Startled, Jesse dropped her back into the torrent and backed off. But Leslie's dead mouth asked, "Where were you, Jess?" until her body sank, one last time, into the murky swirling waters.

When Mary Aarons and Bill Burke returned ten minutes later, both were surprised to find Jesse asleep and in an obvious stated of agitation. His cheeks were covered with the dried streaks from tears and he was talking in his sleep. It was not hard to make out what he was saying.

"Can Leslie come with us?"

* * *

Following the kid's afternoon OT session, where both were declared able to provide themselves with the care needed for release, as well as a brief visit to the Physical Therapist for exercise instructions, Leslie joined Jesse in his ward for dinner. This time it was Judy Burke who provided the meal, and for the entire gang, all five children. Leslie shrewdly guessed that her mother and Mrs. Burke had planned the surprise meals the day of the accident. But whatever the source of the extravagance, no one complained, even Billy, who had unnerved Jesse by flirting (as much as a ten year old could) with Leslie and trying to maneuver his chair next to her.

George, upon finishing his meal, and being completely immobile, asked Leslie's mother to bring him one of the trays of hospital food. "My legs might be crippled, but not my appetite," he declared proudly. But after one bite of the hospital's mystery meat, the realization of Mrs. Burke's superior cuisine prompted him to make a second declaration that he didn't want to gain too much weight. He then discretely pushed the second tray of food away. Jesse laughed and smiled at Leslie, but she seemed distracted and picked at her food until she saw him, and even then offered only a poor smile in return.

The evening turned out to be exceptionally pleasant for all the kids, though Jesse did see Leslie with that same distracted look from time to time. The parents of some of the other boys had joined them and took turns telling embarrassing storied about their children's younger days. Steve's father had heard about the Burke's and made the connection between them and the moderately famous authors. He purchased copies of two of their first books, _I Failed P.E._ and _Mostly Random Plans_, hits in the young adult fiction world, and requested autographs. But Jesse noticed how quiet Leslie became when she heard Mr. Lee's request and made a mental note to ask her about it. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Much of that, he supposed, came from the discomfiture of losing her hair and residual pain of her injuries, but she still carried on in an abnormally reserved fashion.

Unfortunately, the night watch, sans Nurse Linebacker this time, arrived promptly at eight, shooed away all the guests, and rolled Leslie away before Jesse could talk to her. And the friends were not allowed a second privilege of a parent spending the night, much to Mrs. Burke's annoyance. After the final good byes, Jesse lay back and did some of the exercises the Physical Therapist had given him to keep his knee strong. It would be another two weeks before he could put any weight on it and probably two months before he could run again. If he didn't do the exercises it would delay his recovery that much longer, he was told.

At ten a nurse came into the ward and had the boys turn off their bedside lamps. Jesse needed no prompting and supposed another nurse was telling Leslie the same thing. But much later, still awake and uncommonly pumped for the hour, Jesse lay listening to the sounds of the hospital. George was snoring like a banshee, but otherwise the room was silent. He could hear voices from the nurse's station, but the floor, he had learned earlier in the day, held few patients and the staff simply hadn't much to do. The heavy metal doors of the old elevator banged open an shut now and then, sometimes startling one of the boys into a half-conscious state before settling down again.

A couple times he thought he had heard the squeak of a mouse in the hallway but couldn't imagine a place as clean as a hospital having mice. It was an amusing thought that Nurse Linebacker might run into one of the furry creatures and awaken the entire floor with a scream of terror. But then he supposed that someone her size would not be frightened by a mouse. As he sat dwelling on the rodent, Jesse had an idea. If he could actually catch the creature, it might make a nice going away gift for Billy. He was irritated by how much the kid had annoyed him earlier with his play on Leslie – though Jesse had not made the connection that his feelings were jealousy – and a furry critter jumping out of his water pitcher the next morning might teach him a lesson.

Slowly and painfully, trying hard not to make a sound, Jesse rolled off his bed and stood on one leg while he got his crutches ready. Next he looked for something to catch the mouse with. He took care of that by taking his own water pitcher and, somewhat more gracefully that earlier in the day, limping to the bathroom and emptying the water. At this point he was beginning to realize the folly of his actions.

_I'm never going to be able to catch a mouse in this condition…_

But he was determined to try. As he approached the ward door, taking care not to be seen by a wandering nurse or orderly, Jesse set his crutches down and pushed himself along the floor with his good leg. He heard it again, the mouse, as he sat next to the door frame, except that is didn't sound so much like a mouse now. It certainly had a squeakiness to it. But it sounded more like a…

A sickening feeling filled Jesse's chest as he came to the realization of what he was hearing. Leslie was crying in her ward across the hall. He could tell she was trying to keep her noise down, but, just like he'd thought there was an occasional squeak from a mouse, it was his friend unwillingly letting her sobs escape. At that moment, Jesse felt something akin to an instinct take over his actions. No longer concerned with stealth, he grabbed his crutches and hobbled across the hallway as fast as he could. In the background he heard at least one nurse calling out for him return to his ward, but he ignored the order and entered Leslie's ward.

She was lying in bed, curled into a fetal position, but her hands were clamped tightly over her mouth; her eyes were open wide and filled with terror. It was a familiar sight, Jesse realized, very familiar and not unlike his own terrors the night before.

He clunked on the tile floor the last two steps to her bed and tried to sit on the edge, but the bed was higher than his own and all he could do was lean against it. From outside the ward Jesse heard the sounds of at least two people approaching. Leslie was obviously still in shock from whatever had terrorized her, and Jesse was becoming alarmed, he didn't know what to do. Then, again, from instinct, he tentatively placed his hand on her left shoulder and patted it while closing his eyes as if his own action would block out whatever was hurting his friend.

"Leslie? It's me, Jess. Are you ok?" _Jesse, you're a jerk. What an stupid thing to ask. Of course she's not ok._

He shook her shoulder again, becoming frightened that something was seriously wrong with his friend. Turning back to the door, he wondered what had happened to the people who were coming down the hallway seconds before.

_What's wrong with these people?_

Then he saw Leslie's eyes focus and her hands fly from her face to his arm, latching on tightly. She was breathing heavily, and still choking back sobs when he tried to ask her what happened, but she shook her head as best she could. Jesse realized that she needed more time to compose herself. While he waited, her grip on his arm lessened and after a few seconds both hands slid off.

"Les, are you ok now?" he asked again, gently, so as not to startle her.

"Mmhmm. Thanks."

In seconds Jesse could hear her breathing return to the steady deep rhythm of a person sleeping soundly, peacefully. Realizing he still had his eyes closed, he opened them and turned to the door. Mrs. Burke was just coming around through the ward entrance, followed shortly by three nurses, one holding an syringe and taking the protective cover off the needle.

"Jess?"

"Mrs. Burke? What are you doing here? I thought…"

"I know, Jess, I…had to stay." She stepped around the boy and put her face to Leslie's head, holding it there for a few seconds. When she stood up she spoke directly to the nurses. "It's over, she'll be ok for the rest of the night."

Mrs. Burke and the three nurses, one of whom was Nurse Linebacker, escorted Jesse out to the corridor.

_Didn't this woman ever sleep?_

"I…I heard Leslie crying and I went to…to see what was wrong" he stumbled to explain, trying to hold back emotions the didn't understand. But instead of being scolded, Mrs. Burke pulled Jesse into a hug and thanked him.

"Jess, Leslie's had terrible nightmares for years," she explained, herself on the verge of tears. "It was part of the reason we moved here. We hoped the change would help her." Though very tired, Mrs. Burke led Jesse back to his ward.

"Sorry it didn't help much," he said flatly, in an almost apologetic voice.

"No, Jess, it did. This was the first one she's had in months. Bill and I thought the accident would have triggered one last night, but…" She trailed off as he climbed back into bed. "Thank you for looking out for her, Jess. I can't tell you how much we appreciate it. I think the nurses might let me sleep in there now, at least I hope they do, those lounge couches are awful. 'Night, Jess."

But something bothered the boy deeply and he wouldn't let Leslie's mother go yet, he needed an explanation. "Wait, Mrs. Burke. Uh, why did you wait so long before coming into the ward? I didn't know what to do, I was all alone in there and…and Les was scared to death and you…you left us!" Suddenly, words he hadn't planned on saying were spilling out. "Sh-sh-she could have…I don't know! W-w-why?" By the end of his rant, Jesse's voice had become loud enough to cause one of the nurses to look into his ward. But the more perplexing problem to Jesse was that Mrs. Burke appeared completely baffled by his accusation.

"Jess, we came directly to Leslie's bed, we got there just a couple seconds after you. We weren't hanging around outside the door."

Judy Burke was alarmed by the accusation, but more so because Jesse appeared to be absolutely certain he was right. "We can talk about it more tomorrow, Jess. Try to get some sleep now."

Jesse again lay in bed, this time he was sure he wouldn't sleep. He ran back over everything that had happened in the past ten minutes: the mouse, the plan to take the mickey out on Billy, hearing Leslie crying, crossing the hallway, seeing Leslie scared to death and trying to calm her, and Mrs. Burke coming in after he had helped her daughter.

_What am I missing?_

His father had left a Bible to read – that usually put him to sleep! But this wasn't the time. He stretched his arms and back, hearing his seldom used joints crack, an action that always grossed-out Leslie, and tried counting sheep.

That failed, too.

After watching the ward clock signal midnight, Jesse gave in. He took out the Bible, an accompanying book light, and started to read. He chose Proverbs. Proverbs were cool and Jesse liked them, but they always put him to sleep.

This time it worked.

* * *

While his wife was with their daughter at the hospital, Bill Burke wolfed down a quick dinner of leftovers and walked out to his tool shed. He looked at a few items before selecting the one best suited for the job ahead. The pole-saw had a reach of about twelve feet.

Trudging through what seemed to be perpetual mud, Bill set off to the site of the rope swing over the creek where his daughter had nearly died the night before. Arriving at the location, now marked more by the discarded medical trash from the paramedics than anything else, he had to look for a few seconds to find the rope. The storm earlier in the day had whipped the frayed end up over a branch and it was nearly hidden in the budding trees.

Extending the pole to its full length, Bill began to saw at the loop of rope over the highest branch; it took about a minute for the sharp blade to cut through. With a crack of a few smaller dead branches, the rope fell down through the trees, the former top loop landing in the water.

Bill retracted the pole, secured the blade, and took the frayed end of the rope to drag it home. His first thought was to throw it away, but for some unknown reason he coiled it up and placed it into an empty whicker basked. When the saw was safely back in its proper spot, Bill closed up the shed, locked it, and returned to the house. He wanted to finish the latest chapter of his most recent book, _One __Plus One Equal Three_. After a fruitless hour he gave up and went to bed.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	4. Part 1: The Edict

**A Life Rescued****  
Part 1****  
Chapter 4 – The Edict  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be, received from this story._

As soon as he woke up Saturday morning, Jesse Aarons knew something was wrong. Standing on the other side of the large window to his ward were his parents; his mother looked concerned, his father furious. They appeared as if they were arguing, but not amongst themselves. Jesse had seen his parents bickering, fighting, and arguing about family matters – usually money – but not like this. His mother seemed to be pleading a lost cause to his father.

He watched the interaction for a couple minutes, trying to glean meaning out of the few words he could hear and the gestures, but until he saw his father pointing towards the girl's ward he was content to let the storm blow over and feign ignorance. Now it appeared as if it had something to do with Leslie, and whatever it was, it certainly was not good.

This puzzled Jesse. Just thirty-six hours earlier his parents and Leslie's seemed to have become friends, or at least as much as his father would allow someone to be a friend. What had happened since then? Had they fought? Did Leslie say something rude to them? That one seemed impossible. If she could calm and make friends with Janice Avery she couldn't possibly upset his father... could she?

The speculation became irrelevant a couple minutes later when Jesse saw his doctor and Nurse Linebacker speaking with his parents. The doctor, after brief words, handed what looked to be a clipboard to Mr. Aarons, which he signed and handed to the nurse. Then his father came into the ward.

"Come on, Jess, we're taking you home," and tossing him a paper bag with some clothes in it, walked away. Jesse did not even have an opportunity to ask what was wrong.

The gym shorts he'd been given fit easily over the cast and weren't too difficult to put on, and the same with the t-shirt, but shoes were another matter. Embarrassed to bring out the pink sneakers, he was just as happy to continue wearing the cheap paper hospital slippers. He hobbled to the bathroom and then around the ward to say good bye to the other boys, all of whom were up by now. He shook each boy's hand, wishing them luck, even Billy, and left the ward for good.

In the hallway, Nurse Linebacker stood waiting with a wheel chair. Jesse protested but she told him that hospital regulations required that every patient be wheeled out of the building. What they did after that was their own business, but while in the building, it was a strictly enforced law.

Mr. Aarons was waiting impatiently at the elevator for his son and the others. "Come on, I have to get to work," he growled.

Jesse waved another good bye to the nurse's station, but when he tried to ask his mother to let him see Leslie she just shook her head and walked briskly to her husband.

"Let's go, Jess, haven't got all day."

"But Dad, what about Leslie? Isn't she going home, too?"

"Yes, a little later this morning..." his mother answered. Then she hesitated and Jesse saw that his father was scowling at her. "Jess, your father...and I," she added hastily, meaning just his father, "think it might be best if you stopped seeing so much of Leslie."

To his own amazement, Jesse did something he never thought he would do to his parents. Jumping up, he shouted, "_WHAT?! Why can't I see her? She's my best friend and...and I…I need her to help me with some of my homework._" This last item seemed a bit silly, but at just that moment he had realized all the math work he had to do – in just under two days.

"No," his father said with a finality that visibly shook Jesse and made his mother sigh and cover her mouth.

_Why are they doing this?_

The ride home was long and quiet. No one brought up what they were thinking about, but this was not unusual for the Aarons family, either. When they passes the Burke house and turned onto their drive, all remained silent.

There were signs of a small celebration waiting for Jesse when he entered his house, though celebrating was far from his mind. His three sisters had cut out paper-link chains all around the living room and made his favorite desert: chocolate cake with white frosting, and vanilla ice cream, of course. It was a little like having his birthday over again but without presents. The sincerity of his sisters, particularly the older two with whom he had never gotten along, touched Jesse, but the omnipresent pall cast by his father's edict kept his spirits down.

Over the months that he and Leslie had become good friends there had been many days they had not seen each other outside of school, but to be told social contact was forbidden caused a resentment to build inside Jesse. And there was another feeling building inside him, too; one he understood all too well, one that felt like it was choking him. It fed off the resentment as much as it fed into it – and though it took a while for him to recall the name of that unpleasant feeling– for it had been a long time since it last bothered him – Jesse wished he would never feel it again. Lying awake that Saturday night, after telling May Belle a bedtime story, Jesse finally recalled what it was: Loneliness; the suffocating, empty feeling Leslie's friendship had erased from his life.

Although Jesse had not matured enough to put a name to all these feelings and emotions, he was honest enough with himself to recognize the importance of each in his life – or at least which were good and which were bad for him. He knew what he felt for Leslie was good and he correctly classify it as friendship – something he hadn't had much experience with but could easily identify. If he were a little older, and had taken the time to contemplate and discern their relationship further, he might have seen that it was the seed of love. But to an eleven year old boy, love was pretty much just family, some nice relatives, grandparents, and the waitress at the soda fountain who gave you an extra scoop of ice cream for free. To Jesse, it was also a pretty brunette music teacher.

_Can Leslie come with us?_

There it was, again: five words that had changed his life. At least Leslie's! The odd thing, Jesse considered, was that he really hadn't wanted to share Ms. Edmonds with Leslie that day. And that was the crux of the guilt he felt, he knew it was nothing to what he might have felt had he said no to Ms. Edmond's question and Leslie had died. The thought of this suddenly caused a lump in Jesse's throat and made his eyes water. She had become such a part of his life that a forced absence – even the thought of a forced absence – was painful.

_God, what would I have done if she had died?_ It was more than a rhetorical question to himself, it was a prayer. Possibly even a plea for forgiveness.

This myriad of feelings and emotions confused Jesse greatly, and frightened him as sleep approached. It was as if the more he sought to understand them the more they confused him. In the mind of ten year old Jesse Aarons that night, however, one thing was very, very clear: no one was going to prevent him from seeing Leslie Burke.

_They were friends, and friends were everything._

* * *

A short way down the road, at about the same time Jesse drifted off to sleep, Leslie Burke sat in bed talking with her mother. The bulky metal neck brace was gone and a softer foam collar made movement easier, though still painful. The mother and daughter had always enjoyed a close relationship, though Judy Burke was secretly scared to death that her daughter's teenage years would drive a wedge between them. She might have identified this fear as separation anxiety, but she was more likely to blame it on her own hormones, or a meteor shower, for that matter. But her immediate concern that evening centered around two other more pressing items.

First, she and her husband had inadvertently created a colossal chasm between their family and the Aarons. It was, they knew, their own fault for paying Jesse's medical bills without first speaking to his parents. But a slow receptionist at the hospital billing office who didn't understand the meaning of privacy also had to share some of the blame. They tried to understand the pride of Jack Aarons, but they also wanted him to know what his son's actions meant to them, and picking up the bill for a couple days in the hospital was the very least they could do, and a tiny price to pay to have their daughter back. Jack Aarons, however, disagreed. A brief, acrimonious shouting match ensued the morning the two sets of parents had come to pick up their children, though almost all the shouting was from Mr. Aarons. It was the tail end of that disagreement which Jesse had awoken to – his mother trying to reason with his father.

The second part of her problem that night was her daughter's feelings, or more appropriately, her apparent lack of them. When Bill and Judy told their daughter about Jesse's restriction, Leslie didn't complain, she didn't argue, she didn't curse or kick the seat, she sat in the car and became numb. After a few minutes, her mother had to ask if she was alright; the girl had not made a sound since the news, other than her initial reaction: "Oh." But Judy Burke couldn't help but notice the glassiness of her daughter's eyes and the hard look upon her face whenever she glanced back at her.

Most of the reasons for Leslie's reaction – or lack of reaction – that night were because she was female, because she was more socially and emotionally mature than Jesse, because she understood herself and her reactions better than most children her age, and because she knew she was in love with Jesse Aarons, at least in the way she understood romantic love. Judy Burke knew this, too, but as a parent she was convinced it was because of Jesse 'being nice to her,' being her first true 'best friend,' and him saving her life. There was a natural attraction between the two children, she knew, but she wouldn't have labeled it 'romantic.' Yet.

What Leslie's mother could _not_ see was the smoldering keg of emotions and passion her daughter was holding inside. Topping the list was anger, with indignation a close second. Add to that her child-like desire for personal and social fulfillment, and Leslie Burke was a veritable time bomb ready to explode. In a few months, she had gone from being an outcast to another one of the girls. She had even tamed _the bully_. And she knew this was largely due to Jesse Aarons, a fellow reject who became her best friend and who brought out the best in her – they brought out the best in each other. She couldn't imagine being without her best friend.

She _wouldn't_ be without her best friend.

* * *

Sunday and Monday passed without any expectations of speedy recoveries from the children; both were tired from the trip home. Jesse had a fair amount of additional work ahead of him to make his home more easily accessible. Both had a few spills and falls, but generally took them in stride. They could not, however much either pleaded with their parents, be together. By Wednesday, six days after the accident, Leslie had had enough. Her parents took part in a writer's workshop every other Thursday at Smith Mountain Lake, about two hours away, and she assured them she would be fine by herself for the day. Her headaches were almost completely gone, she was up to about eighty percent mobility with her neck, and she was almost twelve. Excellent recommendations, she believed. Her parents did not.

But Leslie worked on her mother that Thursday morning, and managed to convince her to take her for a walk around the neighborhood, ostensibly to find PT. Judy Burke knew exactly where in the neighborhood her daughter had in mind. While preparing for the outing, she took a backpack with unidentified contents to the kitchen where Leslie was getting ready for the walk. The mountain air was cold that day and her mother fussed over her, making sure she was warm, that her brace was on securely, that she laces were tied tightly…

"_Mother! I'm not six!_ Let's go," Leslie pleaded and Mrs. Burke acquiesced.

To Leslie's surprise, and delight, her mother did nothing to maneuver her from what she knew was the intended target: the Aarons' house. On the contrary, she heard her mother humming, a mannerism she displayed whenever feeling particularly content.

"What's going on, Mom? Why are you letting me…"

"Hi Leslie, Judy," Mary Aarons called from the front door of her house.

Turning from her mother to the other voice, she couldn't believe her eyes. Mrs. Aarons was beckoning her towards the house, and she was certain she could see one of Jesse's crutched behind her. She immediately gave her mother a one-arm hug and started to run forward, but did not get far.

"Just a moment, Les," her mother said rather sternly. "No one, _no one,_ other than the four of us must know about this. Even your father doesn't know. Obviously Mr. Aarons…" She didn't need to finish the statement. Then she let go. Leslie was not as recovered as she thought she was, however, and after only a few quick steps forward, she slowed to a walk.

"Hi, Mrs. Aarons, thank you so much!" Surprising Jesse's mother with a hug, she then ducked beside her and found her friend.

"Hi there," Jesse said tentatively, trying shakily to stand on one foot.

"_HI!_" came the more enthusiastic reply. Then, "Move over there, Jess," Leslie ordered bossily, laughing at the confusion on her friend's face.

"Why?"

"Just do it, you dope!"

Jesse looked to his mother but she just shrugged. So he propped his crutches against the wall and stood with his back to the door frame. As he was about to ask what she wanted him to do next, Jesse had the wind knocked out of him from Leslie's lunge, ending with her embracing him tightly, burying her head in his chest. When he recovered from the shock, he was able to reciprocate, though still shy of hugging a girl, friend or not. But Leslie refused to let go, when she started talking he could tell she was near tears.

"_Don't…you…ever…do…that…again, Jesse Aarons! We might have both drowned._" She then released him and punched him on the shoulder.

"_Leslie Anne Burke! What are you doing?_" her mother shouted in astonished bewilderment. But before she could say anything else she saw Jesse laughing.

"I think it's alright, Judy." Mary Aarons placed a calming hand on her neighbor's arm. "I _am _a little curious how Jess will respond to that…when he does." Laughing, the two mothers retreated to the kitchen while the children hobbled into the family room, Leslie imitating her friend's awkward stride.

"I can't believe this, Jess. Who would have thought our mothers were so devious?" Both laughed and traded stories of what they had been doing the past few days and agreed that both their lives were boring being so cooped-up.

After a long chat about nothing of consequence, a few minutes of uneasy silence fell over the friends. They both felt they needed to talk about what had happened, but they didn't want to spoil the excitement of their reunion.

"Jess…"

"Leslie…"

They both said at once.

"You first, Jess, I talk too much anyway."

For half a week Jesse had been thinking about what he wanted to tell Leslie about the accident. He wasn't sure why, but it always came back to that phrase he had stuck in his head since the aborted trip to Washington. His guilt at what might have happened was foremost on his list of topics, but suddenly feeling flustered with his friend sitting next to him, so he just told her how he felt.

"I'm really glad you're ok, Les…really. I-I felt so helpless when you were lying there not breathing. I mean, it's ok – what I did – isn't it?" This was all much more uncomfortable than he had expected it to be, and he wasn't sure his words were making much sense.

"Huh? Is what ok? That I'm alive? Don't be stupid!" she laughed.

At the door to the kitchen, both Judy and Mary listened to their children share feelings about a difficult subject: death. When Leslie said 'stupid,' though, her mother almost exposed their eavesdropping.

"I know that, don't be stupid yourself," he retorted, shoving her shoulder, careful not to jostle her neck. They both laughed this time.

"No, really, Jess. What shouldn't I mind?"

Jess was even more uncomfortable now, though he wasn't quite sure why. He _was_ telling the truth.

"Jess," Leslie said in an exasperated voice, "you broke you leg and pulled me out of the water. May Belle heard you and found my parents. Dad revived me and I'm alive. I'm ok with that. It was a group effort." She acted like the whole thing had been a blasé daily event.

_Oh, Lord, she really doesn't know!_

"Um, Les, I did the…the, you know." She obviously didn't. "I did it, not your father."

"_Did what?_"

At that point, Mrs. Burke felt there had been enough embarrassment and stepped into the room. "Leslie, it was Jess who revived you, not your father."

The look on the girl's face was that of someone receiving a terrible shock. "_YOU?_" Leslie shouted in feigned disgust, as if he had done something perverted to her.

"Huh?" the other three said together.

"_You put your mouth on mine and...and took advantage of me! I don't believe you Jesse Aarons! I'm going to tell everyone at school. I can't believe this. I thought you were my best friend!_"

Both mothers were speechless. Judy Burke was in a near panic. Jess was turning white and looked like he might hurl when Leslie started laughing and giggling, falling over on the sofa. Her mother put her face in her hands and shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Mary, Jess. _Leslie!_ That wasn't a very nice thing to do."

Jesse was getting some color back into his face, but had, apparently, accepted the prank for what it was. He also noticed that Leslie was holding onto his arm. When he looked at it she promptly let go, blushing.

"Sorry, Jess, Mom was right, that wasn't very nice of me. But thank you for saving my life." She briefly put her hand on his. "I'm sorry you got hurt so badly, I guess it'll be a long time before we can race again." Nodding, Jesse smiled and accepted the sentiments.

The last couple minutes were an altogether bizarre experience, Jesse realized. While there was a part of him that knew Leslie was kidding him, and he enjoyed the direct – if unexpected – attention she gave him with the prank, he was also intensely curious as to why she had done it. He tried to forget about it, but like the annoying phrase, it just wouldn't leave his head. Then something else forced his attention elsewhere.

"Sorry to break up this happy reunion, but there's work to be done," Mrs. Burke said a little more seriously. Then, handing each child their respective backpacks filled with something hard and heavy, she barked out an order. "Homework! Get to it!"

The laughs and giggles were instantly supplanted with groans, but the kids good-naturedly took out their books and assignment lists from the classes they were missing and started to work. Back in the kitchen, Judy Burke again apologized to her friend about her daughter's behavior. "I don't know why she did that. Maybe she's been inside too long."

Mary had another explanation. "You know, Judy, there's an old saying: '_You only tease the ones you like_'."

"The way I heard it, Mary, was: '_You only tease the ones you love_'."

The kid's time together was cut short when Leslie developed a bad headache after lunch, something she had been told to expect. "I'm sorry we didn't have time to go over the algebra," she said in parting.

"You have a couple more days, kids, there's plenty of time."

"_Really?!_" Leslie shouted, jumping up, her headache temporarily forgotten.

"As long as we can keep this quiet, I'll bring Leslie over here so you two can study. But you'll have to work hard, who knows how long this will last." With a sad look, Mary Aarons gave her friend a hug and said goodbye to her guests.

Jesse was still in the living room working on his social studies when his mother returned a couple minutes later. "Jess, is Leslie always that…playful?"

Jesse shrugged, but then looked at his mother. "No, I think she was just happy to, um, you know, um…"

"I think she's happy to be alive, and to have a friend like you."

"Yeah, I guess. Are all girls her age that way?"

"Pretty much."

Jesse quietly accepted his mother's answer and returned to his studies.

* * *

Eventually, Jesse had to do something about the situation, but he felt put-out about it, and that it was not a thing he should need to do. He also knew that he had no other choice. So on a Sunday, three weeks after the accident and after a week and a half of sneaking behind his back, Jesse approached his father after the family had left church and were walking to the car. He was nervous. His sweating profusely might be an apt example of how his physical state reflected his mental condition, but there was simply no getting around it. He had practiced what he wanted to say a dozen times; it gave him little comfort. But Sundays were the one day of the week when Jack Aarons could usually be approached about difficult family topics without him biting your head off. Sunday Mass seemed to have a calming effect on him.

"Dad, before we go home can we talk about something?" Jesse made sure he looked his father in the eyes.

In a voice far more calming than Jesse might have expected, his father assented and they walked, or in Jesse's case hobbled, a few yards away from the after-Mass crowd gathering in front of the church.

"What is it, Jess?" The voice was authoritative and firm, but not harsh or suspicious.

"Dad, would it be ok for me to see Leslie again, outside of school?" Fighting the desire to do otherwise, Jesse made his request firmly and respectfully, retaining the essential eye-contact.

The answer was not immediately forthcoming; Mr. Aarons showed neither surprise nor disinterest. If anything, he appeared curious.

"Is it that important to you, Jess?" he said after what seemed an interminable pause.

Again, and to Jesse's own curiosity, be blurted out something he didn't intend to say. "She's that important to me, Dad."

Mr. Aarons appeared somewhat taken aback by the answer. He again paused, obviously thinking, and then pointed over to a nearby picnic table. "Sit down, Jesse." When they were settled, he spoke again. "Jess, do you understand why I forbid you from seeing Leslie?"

"Something about my, um, hospital bill and the Burke's paying for it." For the first time, Jesse's father's eyebrows scrunched together, a sure sing of a rapidly rising temper.

"I see your mother has said more to you about it than I wished. No matter, that's correct. Mr. Burke took it upon himself to stick his nose into our family's business. What do you think about that?" This last question, obviously a test, caught Jesse off-guard.

"His intentions were good, Dad. I don't think he meant to offend you."

His father seemed to ponder this, nodding his head slightly. It was, Jesse realized, the calmest and most mature conversation he ever recalled having with his father.

"I believe you're right, Jess. Bill Burke doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would intentionally hurt someone. But I also believe that Burke, and others like him, don't take the time to think of the broader consequences of their action. What he did was commendable, from one point of view. But now I want you to look at it through my eyes."

Over the next few minutes, Jesse's father explained to him the virtue of pride, and possibly for the first time with one of his children, told how difficult life was for their family. A lot, even most of what his father said made sense to his son, and he could honestly say at the end of the lecture that he understood his father's embarrassment and injury from what Mr. Burke had done. Jesse said he had not viewed the circumstances the way his father had, and even felt the need to apologize to his father, and did.

This meant a great deal to Jack Aarons. What happened next meant more.

"Dad, I'd still like to be able to see Leslie outside of school. We're friends and her friendship does mean a lot to me. After what you just told me I don't think I would ever do the same thing Mr. Burke did, or the same way he did it. But Leslie is my friend, she's not your enemy. I…I just don't think it's fair to Les and me. And…" _I don't want to say this!_ "…Leslie and I did our school work together the first week and a half we were home. I'm sorry for being dishonest."

Again, a long silence surrounded the father and son. Jack Aarons, at times, stretched and rotated his head causing the joints in his neck to pop noisily. He sat on the edge of the picnic table looking up into the sky, almost as if he were praying. Then he looked at his son. "Ok, Jess, you made your point, and I'm proud of you. What you said was well thought out, and you presented it to me like a man; that's important in life: not going off half-cocked and demanding things you don't deserve. As for your dishonesty," he paused, Jesse thought he even saw a very slight smile on his father's face. "Maybe, _maybe_, this one time, it's balanced out by my pigheadedness. There's something we can both work on, ok?"

Mr. Aarons stood up and offered his son a hand, which he immediately took, then reached for his crutches. As they started back to the car, Mr. Aarons said, "Jess, you can see Leslie outside school, but I don't want you over at her house, at least not yet. This is a problem between Burke and me and we'll have to work it out." And with a hard slap on his son's back, Mr. Aarons walked proudly away to speak with Father Kelly, the pastor.

* * *

Spring was in full swing as June began and Jesse and Leslie's injuries healed. Leslie had been back to full-speed since late the previous month and Jesse wanted desperately to get his cast off and join her in P.E. now that the weather was clear, the fields dry, and there were races to be run. The only real sore spot was his first day back at school when Scott Hoager laughed at Jesse's cast in class.

"You'll never beat the bald weirdo now, Aarons."

Jesse turned and stared Scott down. Then he punched him.

"You're crazy!" Hoager yelled, wiping his bleeding nose on his shirt.

"_Jesse Aarons! Hallway. Now!_" the teacher shouted.

When the call from the principal's office reached Mary Aarons, she listened, thanked the principal, hung up, and called her husband. That night at the dinner table, Jesse's sisters, who had returned to their infantile and obnoxious ways long before, told their version of the story hoping to get their brother in trouble. They didn't know their father already knew the specifics. When the girls finished Mr. Aarons responded matter-of-factly. "Jesse, hit him in the jaw next time, a knock-out is better than a bloody nose every time."

Mrs. Burke shook her head in disbelief, May Belle smiled broadly at Jesse, and that was the end of all conversation on the subject.

Neither Leslie nor Jesse, however, had much time to spend together the last weeks of school. In Virginia, fifth graders took the Math, Science, and Social Studies Standard of Learning exams. While both were good students and had missed only a single week of school, between catching up on missed assignments, and the S.O.L. prep, they saw little of each other outside of the bus, class, and the occasional evening studying together. Of course, they milked Jesse's Math 'deficiencies' as best they could, so at least two nights a week Leslie was at the Aarons' house allegedly tutoring her friend. Mr. Aarons had remained firm on his edict that Jesse not go to the Burke's, and no one was about to push that restriction, so Leslie became a regular guest at her neighbor's house one hour, twice a week. May Belle didn't mind, either.

In the second week of June, Jesse got his cast off. It couldn't have happened too soon – just a week before summer vacation. The moment he returned home he called Leslie and they went walking in the woods, far downstream from where the old rope used to hang. Penetrating into areas neither had ever visited, they were driven by a single quest: finding PT. Posters and fliers had gone out but there was never a response. Neither wanted to give up on the pet, his passing, if confirmed, seemed somehow tied to Terabithia's fate. But in spite of two long back-country weekend day-hikes, not trace was ever found of the Prince. Leslie seemed resigned to this; Jesse was frustrated.

One thing neither friend had spoken to the other about since April was Terabithia, except vaguely, and only in reference to PT. Sometimes Jesse would come upon Leslie standing by the spot where she nearly drowned, staring wistfully into the far woods. A large tree had fallen, weeks before, near the spot and crossing the creek was again possible. In fact, it was now easier than with the rope. The one time Leslie started to cross, however, she slipped on a slimy spot of old moss and wrenched her back from an awkward landing. Jesse was not there, and she was happy he didn't have to see the spectacular strawberry the rough bark caused on her left waist, hip, and back. It hurt for a week but she kept it a secret from her friend.

And suddenly summer vacation upon them. With the distractions of school and injuries behind, the kids made plans, as kids often do, with no knowledge of what their parents were arranging for the summer. This was more the case with the Burke's than the Aarons', as Jesse pointed out, "We never go anywhere; can't afford to."

"But you have to make plans, Jess," Leslie prodded him one day when they were cooling their feet in the creek and making up funny stories about the crayfish. "Otherwise you'll just end up an old… fart." As this was the extent of Leslie's vulgarity, it was an occasion for laughter. Then Jesse leaned over and nudged Leslie with his shoulder, smirking doubtfully.

"But it's true. Look at what we created this past year."

And then it happened: unexpectedly, suddenly, magically. They opened their minds, turning up from the running waters and crayfish scurrying between the rocks. Before them lay their kingdom, Terabithia, as they had first seen it so many months before. Leslie slipped her sandals on, jumped up, and leapt across the much diminished creek. Jesse put his pink sneakers on but remained on his side, where he had been sitting. Something was holding him back. Then he saw his friend, her hand out, smiling like she had the night before the accident.

_Can Leslie come with us?_

Like a clap of thunder, he heard it again. Whatever was haunting his memory of that day was still with him. Jesse has come to believe it a sign, and as a portent, it was an excellent one. Smiling, he too leapt across, catching Leslie's hand and running up the opposite bank with her. They were running, _really_ running, again as they loved to, past the old rusted auto, even past the tree house. They ran until they had reached the hill overlooking the valley where they could see the mighty waterfalls and snowcapped peaks. Laughing at the sights they shared, together they walked on neither noticing the ease at which they held hands. Terabithia was, after all, a place of magic and imagination, where everything they wanted could come true.

End of Part One

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	5. Part 2: The Assignment

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 5 – The Assignment  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be, received from this story._

The letter sat on the dining room table of Aarons' house mocking him each time he walked by. _This is summer vacation, for Pete's sake!_ Jesse ranted silently. Complaining to his mother was of no use whatsoever and his older sisters seemed to think it was great fun to see him do something other than moon about all day, drawing, and hanging out with the 'peach next door,' as they often called Leslie Burke. _I suppose my chores are a barrel of fun! What happened to the vacation part of summer vacation?_

And… _Due the first day of school_, it read. It was a perpetual homework assignment looming over him, like one of those sickeningly happy party clowns at the Wal-Mart that weaved back and forth when little children run up and try to hug it. Jesse stomped around, finished cleaning the kitchen, and then headed over to Leslie's house. His father's restriction on visiting the Burke's was still in place, but today he simply didn't care.

But his petulance was of little consequence that morning, half way to his destination Leslie jumped out from behind a huge rhododendron and tackled her best friend. He should not have been startled, though, it was another quirk of Leslie's she had been refining in the two months since school ended. Jesse found it more amusing than annoying. There was something about Leslie tackling him that seemed to be ok in his book of acceptable pre-teen male behavior: she was something of a tom-boy, after all. _Thank God she isn't hanging around my neck like Janice Avery was doing to her boy friend the last couple weeks of school._

"Hey, Les," said Jesse, a little more irritably than he intended. He sat up in the drive, trying to untangle one of Leslie's dangling braded things on her sleeve from his hair.

"Hi, _Mr. Grumpy_. Get up on the wrong side of the bed?" She patiently held her arm out while Jesse finished rescuing his hair.

"Um…it keeps jumping me every time I walk past the stupid table."

Leslie fell over laughing, at least, as much as she could with her arm still connected to Jesse's hair. "You _still_ haven't written that thing? You said you were going to do it last week."

"I…lied."

"Apparently. What so difficult, it's only a page?"

"I hate writing, you know that. It's impossible. And my handwriting stinks," Leslie nodded in agreement, irritating Jesse even more. "I…I don't know! Nothing happens, not like when I draw or paint." Jesse finally finished untangling the ornament from his hair and pushed Leslie's arm away when she wouldn't stop hovering it over his head.

"Jess, look," said Leslie, touching her friend's arm in a way that always seemed to calm him – or at least distract him. "Writing and drawing are, 'both manifestations of the mind's power to create'," she quoted sagely.

"When did you get so smart?" Jesse asked teasingly.

"It was from one of the books in our summer reading list, hmm, can't remember the title. Which one did you read? _Jesse!_"

"_I read one!_ Gimme a break." Leslie waited. "Ok, I started one."

"Uh-huh, which one?"

"Captain Underpants." They both broke out in giggles.

"Come on, Jess, really, which one?"

"I was serious."

Leslie shook her head and jumped up. Jess followed, perfectly happy to drop the subject. But his friend resurrected the earlier one.

"And the paper? You must have something you can write about, it's not like you didn't have an eventful summer."

"Ok, I promise I'll start it right after I win the race."

"What race?"

"The one to your shed. _GO!_" Jesse took off, leaving Leslie in his wake.

"I have my flip-flops on, no fair!" she cried, but took off as best she could.

* * *

_My Summer, by Jesse Aarons_

_I started my summer getting my cast off my leg, that was great. I broked it in April and had to use crutches for two months. I took lots of hikes into the mountains with my best friend and spent a lot of time painting and drawing the town from the top of Otter Peak._

_The best part of my summer was when my best friend took me to the beach. Her mother drove because her father had to finish some work. It took us eight hours to get to Virginia Beach, about three hours longer than usual, my friends mom says, because of the traffic. We stayed at a hotel on the beach so we could go out into the water every morning before it got to hot and crowded with people. In the evenings there was a big lot next to the hotel with a ice cream stand and it showed movies every night. We would get ice cream and watch the movie together. The first night it was Grease, the second night it was The Wizard of Oz and the third night it was Field of Dreams. That one was kinda strange with dead baseball players coming out of a farmers corn field. The last movie was The Brave Little Toaster and we decided to walk on the beach instead of watching it. The beach didn't have any shells except very little ones. My friend said that the further south you go the better the shells are but we didn't go any further south so I have to take her word for it._

_That was my summer. It was fun and now it's over._

_The end._

Leslie tried to keep a straight face as she read through Jesse's story. _He did touch some of the highlights, I guess_, she sighed to herself.

Jesse watched for a reaction, but other than a grimace at a couple points Leslie succeeded in hiding her concern.

"It's, uh, pretty good, Jess. I'd forgotten about the ice cream stand," she said lamely. "Would you like me to proof it for you?" she asked hopefully.

"What's that?"

"When a writer…"

"_I'm not a writer!_"

"Yes, Jess, I know," Leslie said patiently. "Anyway, when a writer finishes something they give it to another person, sometimes two or more people, if the story is long and complex. The editors, or proofreaders, check for things like spelling and grammar errors. There might be an entire person who does nothing except make sure the facts are correct. Then it goes back to the author for revisions. This can go on a long time, but for a paper like this it won't take too long." Re-looking over the scribbling, she realized she probably should not have made that last comment.

It all sounded terribly complex, but Jesse told Leslie to go ahead and 'proof' it for him. Leslie ran inside for paper and a red pen and over the next ten minutes, they sat at the picnic table in the Burke's back yard: Leslie scratching and writing, Jesse looking on with dismay. Finally, the torture ended and Leslie handed the marked-up paper back.

"Pretty awful, wasn't it?" said Jesse dejectedly.

"No," she lied, "but this will help. Fix those grammar errors and you'll be ok. They're probably not even going to grade us on it." Leslie watched as Jesse started copying the story over on the extra paper she had retrieved, cringing when he made some of the same errors again, in spite of her markings. When he was finished, he slammed his pen on the table.

"I _suck_ at writing."

"Well, I _'suck'_ at drawing. When we have to do sketches for Art class, you can help me. How 'bout that… Captain Underpants?"

Jesse smiled broadly and they shook on it.

* * *

"Children, I read everyone's stories of their summer adventures and I must say I am impressed. You were very active, all of you. I want to share one of these stories with you, not because the person took a cruise or visited some exotic location, but because it is well written and she looked at summer vacation from a different perspective. So please listen as I read, My Summer Adventures, by Leslie Burke."

"_My summer was fantastic, not because I wasn't in school, or went to Disney World, it was special because of who I was with, and what I did with my friend…"_

As Mrs. Walters, their sixth grade homeroom teacher read on, Jesse's friend's vivid descriptions of their exploits were succinct and evocative, though he was sure they meant much more to the two of them than anyone else. He was also relieved Leslie had omitted his name from her story. The idea of somebody other than May Belle (like the entire sixth grade) singing about him and Leslie '_sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,_' made him nervous. In fact, the idea of him and Leslie actually doing it… he shook that picture off, too.

Jesse closed his eyes, remembering the past ten weeks, and five days in early August above all the rest . . . .

* * *

"You've never been to the beach, Leslie tells me," Mrs. Burke said as they packed the Mercedes the first Saturday in August. "There's nothing like the beach to help you forget about the world and lose yourself."

"We went to Smith Mountain Lake a couple summers ago. That was fun, but there wasn't a beach. I mean a real beach."

"You'll love it," Leslie piped in, throwing a sleeping bag at her friend. "And you'll love having a room to yourself for a few days, May Belle," she added to Jesse's little sister who stood pouting, obviously jealous of her brother's grand adventure.

"Ok, you two, where's the list?"

"Here, Mom. My stuff is all checked off."

_The list_, Jesse thought, _the bane of childhood, the squelcher of Saturday morning free time_. His mother had used lists at one point and he was quite sure if she discovered that Mrs. Burke was using them, they would be instantly resurrected and life, as he knew it, would be over. Lists had appeared in the Aarons household a couple years back after Jesse's father returned from work telling stories of how lists at the store had miraculously doubled the business's efficiency. He then insisted that everyone, possibly including the baby, put together a daily list of what they had to do that day (prioritized) and follow it religiously. The result was the first - and only successful - children's rebellion in the family's short history. After a brief period of professed diligence in creating their lists, Jesse, May Belle and the two older girls simply stopped making them and their parents concluded that since the first item on all their lists, every day, was schoolwork, they really didn't need to continue the practice.

But that was only part of the story. Mrs. Aarons, unlike her children, found the lists astoundingly useful, annoyingly useful, and shared hers with the children. Not that the older girls ever gave a hoot or paid them any heed. Every Saturday morning, Jesse and company found four lists on the dining room table listing exactly what was expected of them that day. Jesse was sure – and often rightfully so – that his was the longest. His sisters reminded him that being the '_man of the house while Dad was gone_' carried a heavy responsibility. Jesse secretly believed that his sisters were rewriting the lists late Friday night and giving him most of the chores. He might have been correct.

The list torture lasted an entire year, and while the house had never been so clean or well organized, no one complained too dramatically when the baby took seriously ill and their mother simply had no time to make up the weekly lists for almost a month. _Perhaps she needed a list to remind her to make a list_, they wondered.

When the pre-sixth grade assignment appeared on the table one Saturday in early July, Jesse nearly convulsed. The history of lists in the Aarons family might explain, in part, his violent reaction to seeing the paper. On the other hand, it may have just been laziness.

"Alright, I think we're ready," Mrs. Burke proclaimed, much to Leslie and Jesse's delight and May Belle's chagrin. Even a hug from her adopted sister did little cheer-up the girl and she refused to say goodbye to her brother. She had no idea of the tremors it sent through him when she turned petulantly away and started to run home. Jesse only needed a few steps to catch up, and what Leslie and her parents heard and saw stunned them.

"Listen, May Belle, don't you _ever_ leave a person without saying goodbye. What if you never saw them again?" He then pulled his sister into a tight embrace and whispered a more personal message in her ear. The Burke's couldn't hear the words, but the effect on the little girl was traumatic. She clung to her brother, kissed his cheek, and then, oddly, did the same to Leslie. And without another tear she ran home, waving happily. The touching scene froze the group for a few seconds, Jesse didn't turn back immediately and Leslie was holding her father's hand. Mr. and Mrs. Burke, however, shared a brief look, both a little more curious about their daughter's best friend.

Following a final farewell to Mr. Burke, they were off.

The drive to Virginia Beach was long and not terribly exciting. Through the southern tier of Virginia they passed thriving cities such as Bedford, Lynchburg, Prospect, Rice, Burkeville – Jesse secretly wondered if this sole village was the real reason for taking the slower, southerly route – Wilson, and finally Petersburg, where they reached the first road with a speed limit above 55. There were also real towns and cities. Jesse was quite certain there were no inhabitants in the town of Rice. Who, after all, would want to proclaim, _we_ _live in Rice_?

Unfortunately, with the additional people came the price of additional traffic, to the point where Jesse wondered if the entire east coast of the U.S. had decided to descend upon Virginia Beach for the weekend. Having lived in Arlington County, Leslie and Mrs. Burke appeared unaffected by the sardine-like traffic and drivers who made liberal use of rude hand gestures when passing. Their speed slowed and even kids with vivid imaginations suffered. The few silly car games Jesse knew had long since become boring and one could only play so much Rock-Paper-Scissors, even with your best friend. They made a brief stop in Williamsburg for gas and a snack and then continued on route 60 until they reached Newport News where they rejoined the Interstate.

The final two mile into Virginia Beach reminded Jesse of the scene from _Deep Impact_ when everyone was fleeing the eastern seaboard to avoid the gigantic tidal wave about to be generated by the comet strike. It was a wonder to him that the car moved at all. At some point Leslie had fallen asleep and for entertainment he watched as her head lolled fore and back whenever her mother accelerated or slowed. She finally awoke to see her friend chuckling at her unintentional antics.

Near dinnertime, they pulled into the city of Virginia Beach and their motel. Upon checking into _The_ _Beachcomber_, the trio dropped their luggage in the room and donned their swimsuits. Jesse's first real view of the ocean, from their balcony, left him in wonder; he had never seen anything so big. _The mountains could be swallowed up_, he thought, then he jumped when Mrs. Burke came up and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Jess, you were so quiet. Everything ok?"

He just nodded, speechless. Leslie joined them, putting an arm around her mother's waist. "Incredible, isn't it?"

"Can we go down now?" he asked, his voice full of awe.

"I have a key, Mom, we'll be on the beach," said Leslie, grabbing Jesse's hand and heading out.

It was just past five o'clock and the hoards of tourists had thinned to a few scattered groups of teens playing volleyball or throwing Frisbees, but the charm of the sand and crashing waves had not diminished in the least. Leslie dropped her towel and ran into the surf, laughing, twirling, slapping the top of the waves as they passed, sending foam and water into the air, and then ran out again to shed her flip-flops and hat.

Jesse looked on, at first wondering which sight he was enjoying more, the ocean or…. He'd seen Leslie in a swimsuit before, but only when she was sunning or washing her parent's car. It was still more curiosity than hormones driving his mind at that point, but his friend left a lasting impression on him at that moment, running from the waves to pull him in with her. He went forward, willingly, and for the first time in their friendship Jesse thought of Leslie as pretty.

By the time Mrs. Burke joined them a few minutes later, she found Jesse on his knees choking and coughing up a mouth full of seawater, her daughter looking on, half amused and half worried.

"It's….salty!" Jesse proclaimed between coughs.

Leslie laughed. "It's the ocean, Jess, of course it's salty. Come on back in, I'll show you how to _not_ get smashed by a wave."

Again, Judy Burke noticed, her daughter took Jesse's hand and pulled him forward. And again it was a minute or so before they let go. _Jesse's not the only person experiencing something new today_, she told herself, _it'll take me a while to get used to this_. Moving up from the surf, she set up a low beach chair she'd brought, the type with a small parasol, and sat to watch over the children, enjoy the sounds and smells of the location, and relax after the long drive.

Their days were spent on the sand and in the ocean, building castles and body surfing. What amazed both Jesse and Leslie was how easily they were accepted by others their age. Leslie's hair was still very short, only a couple inches, and her scar plainly visible in places, but that didn't seem to bother anyone. And there were no bullies – though Jesse told his friend that it might be due to all the adults around – everyone shared toys, rafts, games and fun.

After lunch and a short rest, which always turned into a nap, the kids sleeping peacefully on the bed or Jesse's sleeping bag, but always together, they returned to the beach and a few more hours of play before cleaning up and dining out – another novelty for Jesse. He had seldom eaten in a restaurant and never eaten seafood before, though fresh water trout and catfish were frequent dishes at home. He marveled at the rich tastes of tilapia, sea bass, and flounder. Salmon made his eyes light up.

Every day was something new and different, but not _always_ pleasant. He and Leslie had established a small group of kids they swam and played with and this worked well while the _status quo_ was maintained. That changed Monday afternoon when a boy around their age, Tom, started paying attention to Leslie in a way that made Jesse feel funny. He had never really felt jealousy that way when playing group games or swimming, only when Tom singled Leslie out. Not completely understanding what he was experiencing, he retreated to the shade of the beach umbrella beneath which Mrs. Burke was reclining. Fortunately, Judy had seen some of the interaction and was prepared for the situation.

"Hi, taking a break?" she asked off-handedly.

It took a couple seconds for the response. "Yeah."

"Did you put your sunscreen on?"

"Yes, ma'am. You did my back, remember?"

"Right you are." She paused. "Why aren't you out with Les?"

No answer.

"Jess?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Take a look at Leslie."

"Yeah, so?"

"See how she's talking to…his name's Tom, right?"

"Yes."

"Wave at her, Jess."

"Wa'dya mean? She's talking to _him_." He fairly spat out the last word.

"Trust me, Jess. Wave to her."

Jesse remained seated and gave a weak little wave of his wrist. Mrs. Burke reached over and pushed him into the sand. "Jess, stand up, wave at her and smile…then watch what she does."

He did as told and nearly fell over. As soon as Leslie saw him waving, she turned and ran to him, smiling. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest disappeared.

"How did you know she'd do that, Mrs. Burke?"

"Jess," Mrs. Burke said quickly, before her daughter arrived, "I know my daughter. Just don't take her friendship for granted." Jesse didn't exactly understand what had just happened or what Mrs. Burke said - that would come later - but it was a lesson he turned to more often in the future. When his friend arrived, she again took his hand and they returned to the ocean, together.

After dinner each night, as Jesse had related in his story, he and Leslie would go to the empty lot next to the motel where the city had set up an outdoor theater. Every night they watched a movie, treating themselves to popcorn and ice cream, lying side-by-side on a large beach towel, with pillows 'appropriated' from the hotel laundry. On Tuesday, their last night at the beach, Mrs. Burke joined them for the 'Kid's Night' showing of The Brave Little Toaster. All three were well acquainted with the popular children's movie so they decided to take a walk on the beach instead.

Following three days of hot, humid conditions, where the thermometer reached well into the nineties, Tuesday's weather was cooler and less humid. A northeasterly breeze arrived late that afternoon, and by the time they had abandoned the show the temperature had dropped below seventy. Far to the north, they saw billowing cumulonimbus clouds reaching high into the air, and as the sun set, faint flashes of distant thunderstorms across the northern horizon were easy to see.

Leslie was holding her mother's hand with her own right and her ever-present flip-flops with the left, chatting cheerily, sometimes running off into the darkening green water before returning to resume the stroll. Sometimes Jesse would join her in the surf and once a short-lived splashing contest ensued which Leslie's mother promptly broke up when her daughter inadvertently kicked a large glob of wet sand into her back. Their antics left all three sodden and sandy. Then Mrs. Burke pointed out that the storms were getting closer and they had at least a couple miles to walk back to the motel, so the trio turned back, the kids very reluctantly.

By nine that evening, the approaching storms were kicking up sizable waves and only a few hardy (or foolhardy) surfers could be seen trying the ever-increasing swells at the edge water illuminated by the boardwalk lights. Their motel was only a block further up the beach and Mrs. Burke told the kids, lingering with their feet in the surf, that she was heading up to the room and expected them shortly. Both had been quiet, she observed, the last few hundred yards. _They're probably a little down about leaving the beach tomorrow_, she supposed, and headed off to the room.

"Going home tomorrow," Leslie said unnecessarily.

Jesse grunted sourly.

"Did you have a good time, Jess?" They were standing in the surf, water half way up to their knees. Both had their arms folded across their chest in the chilling breeze; the water felt much more inviting, as if they could sit in it and be warmed.

"I had the best time of my life. I don't ever want to leave this place." Leslie wasn't sure, but her friend sounded upset.

"Why?"

"I dunno."

Leslie nudged him with her shoulder as she often did when she knew her friend was holding something back.

"Ok, I do know. Home is…home: three annoying sisters, an overworked mother, and my father who would rather I don't hang… never mind."

Leslie sighed. "You father doesn't want you hanging around me? I thought you worked that out?"

"Yeah…no, not so much you, it's your father. Look, _I know_, Leslie!"

"Know what, Jess?" she asked, genuinely curious. _He_ might have known but _she_ didn't.

"_Your_ father couldn't go with us or _MY_ father wouldn't let me go."

"_That is not true, Jesse Aarons!_" This time she nudged him hard enough that he nearly fell in the water. "My father has a deadline on his book. He has to get it done. He couldn't afford the time off…"

"_Leslie!_" Jesse shot back, nudging her a bit hard, too. "He could have written here, in the motel."

A minute of silence followed; the wind picked up even more, blown sand pelted against their legs in painful waves, and the incoming tide had raised the water level to their knees. It was becoming difficult to stand when hit by the swells.

"Jesse," Leslie spoke again, this time calmly and without nudging her friend. "I'm glad it was just the three of us. Besides, my Dad snores horribly."

Jesse's spell of gloom was broken and he laughed as they slowly backed out of the surf. "It's gotten cold!" Leslie said.

"I don't want to go back in."

"Me either. I wish I could stay here forever."

"I wish we could," Jesse agreed with some finality, not consciously changing the pronoun from the singular to the plural. They both had to head in very soon, a city Sherriff's car was approaching, loudspeaker blaring, warning everyone that the beaches were closing for the impending gale.

"We have to go now, Jess."

"Aw, come on."

"_You_ come on, we still have time to play that video game you like."

"I wanna stay," he again whined intentionally, like a child throwing a tantrum.

"You're so stubborn sometimes." Leslie faced him and began gently prodding him backwards by poking his chest and stomach with her index fingers. Eventually Jesse gave in and they retreated to the motel and up to the room where Mrs. Burke had been silently wondering what they had been discussing.

The ride home on Wednesday was most depressing for both children, though neither demonstrated the feeling overtly in any way but silence. Once in the car, Leslie tried holding Jesse's hand to see if it made either of them feel better. It didn't, and she let go feeling a little foolish. A gloomy rain and generally miserable weather had moved in overnight and reflected their moods. But the roads carried only light mid-week traffic and they were taking the Interstates nearly all the way home so the trip was three hours shorter. The kids found themselves drifting off to sleep mid-morning and woke only when Mrs. Burke stopped for lunch a couple hours later.

When they finally got back to the Aarons' house, Leslie and Jesse seemed to have livened up. Jesse knew he had a ton of chores to catch up on so he told Leslie he would see her the next day. He climbed out of the car with his backpack and a couple small souvenirs he had purchased with his meager savings, thanked Mrs. Burke and Leslie again, and waved goodbye. Turning back to his house, he heard his name called.

"Leslie?" he asked, seeing her run up to him.

"Jess, I had the best vacation ever. Thanks." She pulled him into a tight embrace with her arms around his neck. Jesse shook off his shock and returned the hug, surprised at his own familiarity.

When they broke apart, Leslie touched his cheek. "See you later?"

He nodded and watched his friend return to the car. "Thank you," he said quietly as they drove off.

* * *

When Mrs. Walters finished the story, Jesse stole a quick glance at the girl sitting next to him and received a blushing smile in return. Her story had been a summary of her entire summer, but Leslie guessed correctly that her best friend was thinking about five special days in August. Mrs. Walters, their teacher, congratulated Leslie and dramatically wiped a tear from her eye.

"You are very lucky to have friends and family like that, Leslie. Excellent work, you are certainly your parent's daughter."

Leslie cringed at the reference to her parents, both moderately famous authors of juvenile and young adult fiction books. But no one seemed to pick up on the comment and class continued.

"That wasn't as bad as I expected," Leslie whispered to Jesse.

"Bad? It was _great_. I wish I could paint as well as you can write."

She smiled again and they turned their attention back to schoolwork.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	6. Part 2: The Wish

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 6 – The Wish  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

The morning classes had just ended and Jesse was headed to his locker to pick up his lunch when he froze in his tracks. Ms. Edmonds, his music teacher from the previous year, and Mr. Thomas, the fifth grade math teacher, were holding hands as they exited the teacher's lounge. Jesse got a sour feeling in his gut when he thought back four and a half months. He only saw them for a few seconds, but it left him with an urge to hide, far away, and from everyone, even Leslie – especially Leslie. He abandoned his idea of eating, went instead straight out to the athletic field and found a shady tree to sit under at the edge of the school property. A few minutes later, when he felt calmer, he noticed he had an unexpected urge to draw.

Drawing had always been as fun to him as writing or playing imaginary games was to Leslie. His mind was open and uninhibited when he drew or painted, and it was much like imagining Terabithia where anything could happen or exist. But never before had he had the urge to draw when he felt like he did moments earlier. Then again, he realized, he had never felt that way before. It felt like something was trying to escape from inside him and the only way to help it along was by drawing. Is this a creative impulse? So he withdrew his sketch pad and pencils, closed his eyes and waited for an image to form.

He started drawing.

And he drew…

and drew…

and drew.

It was a most interesting and unsettling experience. Interesting because he had never been so focused on his artwork. Unsettling because he had absolutely no idea what it was he was creating. He saw the pad before him, and his hands moving, shading, touching the paper, but the product made no sense to him at all. Yet he continued to let whatever it was inside him escape onto the paper through his hands. And then it was over.

Drained, with a horrible headache and more horrible feeling in his stomach, Jesse turned his face up to see Leslie standing in front of him, plainly concerned.

"_Jesse! Where have you been?_ You weren't in lunch and sixth period starts in…" Just then the bell rang. "Come on, we have to fly." She held out her hand to help her friend up, but Jesse couldn't move. He was reeling from what he now knew was almost ninety minutes of drawing.

"Leslie," he said in a hushed voice, "something happened."

"_I'll say!_ You fell asleep and missed lunch and fifth period. _JESS! Let's go!_"

This time Jesse accepted her hand and got to his feet.

"Shake it off, Aarons," Leslie said, half kidding, and then took off running to the school building. Jesse jogged behind trying to figure out if everything he'd just experienced was a dream. At the entrance to the school, he saw Ms. Edmonds and Mr. Thomas again, neither looked any different than usual, and they were certainly not holding hands. Then Leslie grabbed his arm and nearly threw him into their sixth period classroom just as the second bell rang.

On the way home from school, Jesse was unusually distant and quiet, an atypical state for him since his friendship with his neighbor had brought him out of his shell. As the hot September afternoon made window seats a much-desired location aboard the sweltering bus, Leslie sat behind her friend to remain as cool as possible. It was one of those hot days where she was happy her hair was still short. Only May Belle acted unaffected by the heat and chose to sit with Leslie instead of her surly brother.

"Hey, you ok, Captain Underpants?" Leslie asked Jesse softly, leaning forward. He didn't reply but she could tell by his deportment that he was amused by the comment. _A break through!_

Then May Belle asked, "What's wrong with Jesse, Leslie? Did you two have a fight?"

Leslie snorted back a laugh but the little girl's brother rounded on her sharply. "May Belle, please stop saying things like that."

May Belle looked stricken. Leslie shook her head at Jesse's insensitivity and put an arm around the girl's shoulders, whispering something into her ear that quickly calmed her. Jesse was still staring blankly at the spot where May Belle sat and Leslie gave him another nasty glare before returning her face to the breeze coming in the open window.

When the bus dropped them off a few minutes later, May Belle asked if she could look for more Barbie clothes with Leslie, some of hers having been devoured by the washing machine, she claimed. Jesse thought it more likely that their older sisters threw them out, neither teen having had Barbie dolls when May Belle's age they were childishly jealous. It was threatening rain, too, so Jesse told his sister to go ahead with Leslie and he would come back in a few minutes with an umbrella.

Twenty minutes later Jesse returned just as the heavens opened and the torrents began. The Burke's porch was long and wide so Jesse, May Belle and Leslie sat watching the shower pass by with its flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder. It was over in less than a quarter hour but during that time Jesse had spoken with his sister and patched things up. Then he said it was time to go. As they walked away, the brother and sister turned to their friend, she waved goodbye and ran into her house.

After only a few more steps, Jesse stopped. "May Belle, why don't you go ahead. I'll be home in a minute," he told his sister.

"Ohhhh," she said in a singsong voice, "going back to see your girlfriend?"

Jesse smiled this time and nudged May Belle along with a friendly pat. When she was out of sight he looked back to the Burke's house, the light in Leslie's bedroom window was on so he knew she was there, studying, even though it was the first day of school and they had no homework. But that was not the reason he stood there; it had happened again, the voice.

_Can Leslie come with us?_

Three times over the summer he had heard it, and three times he had ignored it. But it was becoming a bother, and worrisome, too. He knew what it meant, but didn't see why he should be reminding himself of his failings, even if it was only every so often. He thought back to the events in the athletic field and wondered if they were somehow connected.

Without thought he un-slung his backpack and withdrew his drawing pad. Flipping through, he looked for the peculiar drawing he'd made. There was nothing there. He paged back and forth and again found nothing. Maybe Leslie was right and it _was_ all a dream. He shoved the pad back into the pack and let it hang limply from his hand, trying to understand the unsettling events. With out realizing it, though, and as his mind drifted from idea to idea about the voice and sketch, the rain started up again and suddenly he was being dragged back under the Burke's porch by Leslie's father.

"Are you ok, Jesse?" he asked in a reasonably concerned voice. "You looked a little dazed."

"Uh, no, s-sorry Mr. Burke. I just though of something, uh, something from earlier today and I guess I…" he trailed off, unable to describe what he had experienced. But it must have been satisfactory to Mr. Burke; he said no more about it and brought up a subject of his own.

"Jess, Leslie's twelfth birthday is the twentieth of next month and Mrs. Burke and I were going to give her a surprise party. Do you think you could make it?" He asked the question in a way that made Jesse realize he knew exactly what the problem of him attending was.

"I, uh, don't know, Mr. Burke," he answered truthfully. Then added to clarify, "I'd like to come, it's just…"

A look of frustration came over Mr. Burke's face and he shook his head. "Jess, I think this has gone on long enough. I'll have a talk with your father. If we can't get along with our own neighbors we're in trouble."

Mr. Burke then asked Jesse when the best time to speak with his father was; he took a few notes as the question was answered. Jesse had noticed Mr. Burke's habit of carrying a notepad with him wherever he went. And when it wasn't in his pocket it was next to his computer, or so Leslie had told him.

"And I was hoping you could give me some names of others in your class that might want to come to the party."

Jesse provided a few names, four girls and one boy, but he had to stretch the definition of 'friend' for a couple of them. The simple fact was that while both had become more accepted and less bullied as they got older, both were still, by far, the other's only close friend. Mikey Sellers, the one boy Jesse named, had been just as apt to tease Leslie in fifth grade as be nice to her, and he considered taking back that name. Eventually he let it go. If Mikey wasn't interested he could say so himself.

When he'd finished giving Mr. Burke the names, he fell into an embarrassed silence. Leslie's parents, he suspected, didn't realize that she was still something of a loner, though now by choice. But he also cheered himself by thinking she wasn't an outcast any more, either.

* * *

As September passed and Leslie's birthday neared, Jesse racked his brain to think of something he could give his friend. He wanted it to be special, but not mushy, personal but not overly familiar, and meaningful but not suggestive. It was a problem, Jesse had convinced himself, beyond his ability to solve. He tried asking his mother, but she only told him, "You're her best friend, Jess, you'd know better than me."

Approaching Mrs. Burke was yielding the same result until Jesse saw something in the Burke's kitchen and had an idea. Making a request, which Mrs. Burke happily acceded to, Jesse went home and gathered a few of his paints and other drawing paraphernalia and retreated to the pasture beyond the dilapidated old shed that marked the extent of their property. He spent an hour or so gathering materials and building the necessary structures to aid his plan. When he was finished, the real work started.

Every day over the next two weeks, Jesse spent his free time – and not a little of the time he should have spent studying – working on the gift. After a while, he returned the borrowed prop to Mrs. Burke and went to work on the finishing touches. When complete, he stood back and admired the work. It was an unusual gift, and he was quite certain no one would give her anything even remotely similar; it was distinctly from him to her.

Jess went inside and wrapped the gift in the previous Sunday's comics, the only colored section of the paper, with Leslie's favorite cartoon, Bloom County, displayed just to the right of center. His mother made a bow for the package and it was ready. Only one thing remained: the issue between his father and Mr. Burke had not been resolved.

* * *

The intervening months since the accident, and harsh words of Jack Aarons, had strained Judy and Bill Burke's marriage; not seriously, but the nagging wound went against their common principal of healthy community and neighborly relations. Neither was naïve enough to believe all social differences could be solved, but they strongly espoused the idea that every person had a personal responsibility to make an honest effort, even under the most difficult circumstances, to be a good neighbor, a good citizen, and accept responsibility for their actions. It was a tenet they had taught their daughter, and it had, though they never consciously made the connection, saved her life.

As the friendship between their daughter and Jesse Aarons grew – and both parents recognized it as being healthy, strong, and mutually beneficial – they knew that it might one day suffer from the pain they had so unwillingly caused Jesse's father. It would, if history proved correct, actually become more of a problem as the old wound festered and any hope of restoring trust vanished forever. Joyce Aarons and Judy Burke's budding friendship had survived the misunderstanding of the hospital bill, and indeed had grown stronger as the kids recovered and they supported the clandestine meetings until the children returned to school. But Bill Burke and Jack Aarons never had a friendship, other than Bill's emotional thanks to the eldest Aarons the night his daughter nearly died. So it was up to Leslie's parents, her father in particular, to live up to the philosophy they preached and make another effort to repair the damage. If not for themselves and their neighborhood at large, then certainly for their children.

The question was, how? But Bill Burke knew the answer to that question, too: acknowledge the offense, provide an honest explanation, express regret, and offer reparations.

On Sunday, October 14th, Bill and Judy Burke took a page from Jesse Aarons' strategy book and met Jack Aarons as he left church. Bill thought it could be an important gesture as Jesse senior knew the Burke family did not follow a formal religion. If it had an impact, though, it was not immediately visible.

Bill did not have to introduce himself to Jack Aarons again, though it was more because of his daughter than himself. Jack was an observant man and remembered the blonde girl, and knew of her friendship with his son. Recognizing her told him that the man standing behind her was her father. From there it was up to Bill.

Bill stepped up to Mr. Aarons. He did not offer his hand – a point of disagreement between him and his wife – but did politely nod and respectfully greeted Jesse's family. Then he spoke more directly.

"Mr. Aarons, I am hoping you could spare a few minutes, there's something I need to speak with you about." He said it like a man should say it to any other man: as an equal.

Jack Aarons said nothing, but held his head up, watching his neighbor closely. After an uncomfortable silence, he nodded and pointed off to the side; to the same place he and his son had spoken months earlier.

Within Bill Burke was an enormous sigh of relief. From what he had heard about Jesse Aarons Senior, he was a hard man to be friends with, and that left little room for enemies. But the first baby step had just been taken. They stood under the sycamore next to a table as Bill again began the exchange.

"Mr. Aarons, I want to apologize for what happened between us, assuming you needed help with your son's medical expenses last spring. It was wrong of me and I should have known better; I would have been insulted under the same circumstances." Bill found the forty-two words much harder to say in person. Mouth dry, he paused to see if Mr. Aarons would make any response. He was not expecting one, but had to show the proper deference. After the pause, he continued. "I can't honestly explain what my state of mind was at the time, things were… emotional for Judy and I. Perhaps we weren't thinking straight. But whatever the reason on our end, we should have known better." Again he paused. This time Aarons gave him a sharp stone-faced nod, but nothing more. "Judy and I, but mainly myself, want you to know how sorry we are for having assumed more than we should have."

Now Mr. Aarons spoke. "I appreciate that, Burke. And I can admire a man who owns up to his mistakes. Life is hard for us here, as you've probably heard, so your intentions were good, and I know that, too."

And then Mr. Aarons stopped talking. Bill had no idea what to say. His neighbor had neither forgiven or further condemned him. So he did the only thing he knew how to do: he spoke and acted with honesty.

"Mr. Aarons, we don't have to be friends, I know that. Just because Judy and Mary get along doesn't mean it has to be the same with us. But I am offering you my friendship and I hope you'll accept my hand as a sign that I'm willing to prove myself trustworthy of yours." Bill held out his hand and waited.

After another long pause, Mr. Aarons spoke once more, slowly and deliberately. "Fancy words from a famous author? I hope not. What I hear from my May Belle over there," he pointed to his third daughter, "your girl and my boy are getting married soon."

The stern face and harshly spoken words caused Bill's gut to cramp, and it took him a few seconds to realize his cord was being yanked - hard. When he felt Mr. Aarons' hand grasp his own, however, his relief was complete and he shook his head, smiling at the expertly performed gag. But he also knew that he now had to live up to his words, and he fully intended to. In his own way, on his own terms, Jack Aarons had forgiven Bill Burke, and that was the best he could expect so soon.

Off to the side, the wives stood together, watching their husbands, one hoping, the other praying for a resolution. When they saw it they embraced and smiled, knowing a major roadblock had been cleared.

Jesse and Leslie, too, were watching, somewhat hidden behind their mothers and Jesse's sisters. Their mothers' reaction after a few tense minutes filled them with relief and Leslie took Jesse's hand tightly. This time she didn't let go.

* * *

On the day before her twelfth birthday, Leslie Burke accidentally learned that her parents were throwing her a surprise party. She loved surprises, but this one didn't thrill her. She spoke with her mother, reminding her of their family tradition, thanked her for the thought, and suggested a regular old party - no surprises. Leslie had never had anything of the sort in the past, mainly because she had never had enough friends to make such an activity possible, so she convinced her parents to forgo the original plans. Besides, she knew her parents would ask Jesse, and probably May Belle, too, and frankly, if it were just the five of them she would be more than happy. _Who else do my parents know, other than Jess and May Belle, to ask? How could they find out…?_

_JESSE!_

_That has to be it_, she realized: at some point over the past few weeks, her mother and father had grilled him for names. And then some things began to make sense, the odd happenings at school with some of the girls, and even… _NO! Jess wouldn't have told them to ask Mikey Sellers… would he?_ _Marlene Rothe…Jessica Bishop…Erin O'Keefe…Wendy Longwood, oh, Jess, how could you?_ These girls had, a couple weeks ago, suddenly become nice to her – not that they had been rude prior to that point – but now they were inviting her to sit with them at lunch, play games at recess, and even pass messages back and forth. It explains a lot. And when she thought of Mikey Sellers… _Well, he's ok, for a boy, just a little...odd_.

It had the potential for a disaster. Having friends was one thing, forcing friendship was another. She spent the entire day distracted: performing poorly on a Math quiz, jumping whenever someone said hi to her, and failing to finish her lunch for the first time since arriving at the school a year before. And for an equally long period of time, she had not given Jesse a cold shoulder, _but it was what he'd earned_, she rationalized.

Jesse, on the other hand, strongly suspected that his friend knew what was going on. When she'd hardly give him the time of day the Friday before the party he suspected the worst. _But what could I have done differently? Tell Mr. Burke that I'm Leslie's only friend? And what's the worse that could happen? Leslie wouldn't talk to me any more, that's what!_

There was simply nothing to be done, and Jesse knew it. The party would go on, Leslie would either continue to be, or not be, his friend. He just had to wait. And that Friday, as with most Fridays during the school year, the day seemed to go on and on and on. It was an all-around miserable day for both kids.

Leslie's salvation (and Jesse's too, possibly) came in the form of Mikey Sellers who showed up for the party promptly at two o'clock on the twentieth of October. Jesse and May Belle were already at the Burke's, Jesse fidgeting nervously and his sister looking in wonder at a large pile of children's books in the Burke's family room. The two friends were standing back from the front picture window, neither having said much to the other, immensely uncomfortable in their situation vis-à-vis the party guests. Then they saw Mikey.

Mike Sellers was an average looking kid, eleven, a little taller than Jesse and with hair a little dustier than Leslie's. He spoke well and presented himself at school as an above average student with a below average number of friends. He bore no distinguishing characteristics that set him apart from the other boys, except two: first, Mikey preferred to hang around with the girls at recess. Where Leslie ran against boys in the school races, and won, Mikey ran against the girls – and lost. Fortunately for Mikey's social survival, this was the extent of his odd behavior, and it was where he first became acquainted with Leslie. Mikey was also the only other boy Leslie hung around with to any extent, so, of course, he knew Jesse. But until sixth grade, this was the scope of his interaction with the birthday girl and he was, but no means, a permanent fixture in her social live.

The other area in which Mikey Sellers stood out from his peers was in the area of fashion. Boys in the ten to twelve year old age group are not usually know for their fashion sense, but Mikey was, though it would be more accurate to state that he was well known for his lack of fashion sense. Orange and green appeared to be his two favorite colors, with mauve and various shades of red following close behind. Unknown to all his friends and classmates, was the fact that he and his entire family were colorblind. And over the years, through chance, design, or cruel sales people, the entire family had collected the oddest assortment of clothing in the Roanoke area. That these garments were not in the least bit out of style seemed not to matter. Teal jeans were still teal jeans. The one redeeming point of this fashion issue was that it distracted his share of tormentors from his propensity to play with girls more than boys. Leslie told Jesse that she thought he might simply blend in with the girls at recess, as they tended to wear the brighter colors more than the boys. And this seemed as good an explanation as any other for understanding Mikey Sellers.

The Burke's doorbell rang and Leslie immediately opened the door to greet her other male guest. Mikey smiled, said happy birthday, handed Leslie a gift and appeared to be – apart from his yellow shirt and aquamarine shorts – just another kid their age.

During much of fifth grade, he had sometimes greeted Leslie at school with snide comments about her own attire, or, since April, unfunny jokes about her short hair. But Leslie knew he was not cruel and was probably feeling peer pressure to fit in. She tolerated his comments much more than others might have. Since the beginning of sixth grade, also, she had been dropping him some not-so-subtle hints about his selection of colors he was wearing. (This was when she learned about his visual limitation.) Leslie's interest was impressive in itself as Jesse could never quite figure out how his friend managed to describe a color to a person who had never seen one. He learned, a few weeks after the party that Leslie had been giving him suggestions on mixing and matching the colors he wore. And more impressively, telling him how to know what color each garment was. It was this second ability that truly astonished Jesse, until he learned that she was simply telling him each day the color of his shirt and pants. Mikey would then go home after school and discretely label the day's outfit with a permanent marker, and over time had almost everything he owned thus marked. With that step accomplished, Leslie's notes to him about color combinations completed her project. Jesse eventually congratulated Leslie for her ingenuity. In response, Leslie said there was simply nothing she could do about him playing with the girls. They both shook their heads sadly.

The party got into full swing a few minutes later when the balance of guests arrived. As directed in the party invitation, they were all dressed for indoor play. Leslie's parents loaded the entire group into a rented van and drove into Baxley, a suburb of Roanoke, stopping at a Laser-Tag facility. Mr. and Mrs. Burke had managed to keep this part of the surprise a secret and the van of kids cheered raucously when they saw where they were going. All except Jesse and May Belle who had never so much as heard of Laser-Tag. But Leslie assured them that the game was easy and fun.

With a group of only ten, including Leslie's parents, they were pitted against another birthday party team of fourteen kids from the other side of town. Directions were given by the facility staff, the clock set at fifteen minutes and the two teams waited in their suit-up rooms for their turn. It was here that Mikey Sellers became a hero and the MVP of the party.

Some kids play Laser-Tag for fun, but the majority like to compete and win. This second description fit Leslie's team, and inadvertently propelled Mikey to the rank of general.

"Ok, everyone," Mikey said with far more authority that any of them had heard in school, "Here's what we're gunna do." In the final minutes before their turn began he told them the plan. The buzzer sounded a minute later and they all met at their home base.

In Laser-Tag you are not allowed to physically push a person out of the way to reach your opponent's base and shoot it up. This was the basis for Mikey's strategy. He had Mr. and Mrs. Burke stand physically in front of the entrance to his team's base. They wouldn't be able to do much of anything offensively, but they would also significantly reduce the other team's chance to score.

On the offense, Mikey introduced the 'tank' formation. He and everyone else formed a wall around a central person, in this case May Belle, and protected her as they stumbled around the maze looking for the opponent's base. The outer shield of players absorbed all the damage, but left May Belle unscathed and with a full load of ammo to blast the enemy base. It worked perfectly. By the time the fifteen minutes were up, Leslie's team had scored forty-seven hits on the enemy base while suffering only twelve in return. In good humor, Mikey scolded Mrs. Burke who had left her post to reload, not realizing her role was exclusively defensive.

Two more rounds followed that first one. Round two was a grudge match against their first opponent and played without the 'tank.' The other team won that game, but only by two hundred points, or two more hits on Leslie's base than her team scored. The final game was against an unsuspecting group of rowdy teens and the 'tank' was again employed. But this time the enemy adapted and formed their own 'tank,' but still lost, albeit narrowly.

After the final game, Leslie was more than happy to concede the person-of–the-day title to Mikey: the quite boy with a questionable sense of style was the hero.

Back at the Burke's house, the partygoers were treated to the usual cake and ice cream and then to an unusual Burke family tradition. After the cake and gifts were presented, but before Leslie opened them, each person received a gift from Leslie. And these were not the small bags of party favors used commonly at birthday parties. May Belle, who was handed the first gift, received a Fashion Barbie (with accessories.) She was speechless, sitting agape, her eyes watering. Leslie smiled brightly at her and passed out the other gifts, but told Jesse he would receive his later. As he wasn't expecting to receive anything at all, he could not object in the least.

The last gifts were opened as the party wound down with only Jesse's to his best friend remaining. He handed her the unusually wrapped package, very self-consciously, and watched for her reaction. Shaking a little, apprehensive, Leslie tore the paper off carefully and saw what Jesse had been creating for her over the past few weeks. It was an oil painting, framed in what looked like pieces of driftwood. The scene was one which Leslie had seen many times since August, for it was an adaptation of a photograph her mother took one morning at the beach of her and Jesse watching the sunrise over the ocean. But while Mrs. Burke's photo had been taken from the balcony of their motel room, Jesse had modified the angle so it looked like the painter was standing behind the two figures, obviously Leslie and Jesse. The brilliant sunrise cast colors in every direction and reflected off high clouds almost giving the impression that one sun was rising while another was setting. In the foreground the two friends stood, each leaning in slightly, shoulders touching.

Leslie was speechless. Technically, the work lacked proper proportions and perspective, but artistically it was undeniably perfect – at least to the recipient. Leslie Burke was not a girl who shed tears freely, but her eyes welled as she looked back and forth between the painting and her friend. In her face, Jesse saw, was the best thank you he could ask for.

When all the guests had left except the neighbors, and to the surprise of Mr. and Mrs. Burke, Jesse and May Belle's parents walked up to the house to escort their daughter home. Jesse was remaining for dinner but had expected to take his sister home himself. The Aarons were greeted at the door by Leslie who speechlessly took Mr. and Mrs. Aarons' hands and practically dragged them into the family room where Jesse's painting had already been placed on the wall. She whispered, still a bit awestruck, "Jesse painted that for me."

Having already seen her son's work, Mary gently prodded her husband forward so he could see the talent their son was developing. True to form, Mr. Aarons just nodded approvingly, and then added one word: "Beautiful." It wasn't much, but Jesse knew it was more praise than he had ever received from his father. He was satisfied.

Following dinner, Jesse prepared to walk home, thanking the Burke's for a great time and dinner, but Leslie wouldn't allow him to leave. "I still have to give you your gift." She ran into the other room and returned shortly with a gift about the size of a large index card, but an inch thick.

"Why do you give gifts on your own birthday?" He had wanted to ask the question since the party but had forgotten until that point.

"Judy and I picked it up from my parents many years ago, Jess," Bill Burke explained. "And they had learned of it from reading _The Hobbit_. Have you heard of the book?"

"Yeah, I think so. Isn't it about magic and stuff?"

Leslie giggled. "Yes, Jess, among other things."

"It's the practice of Hobbits to give as well as receive gifts on their birthday. My parents found it a nice idea and it became a tradition. When Judy and I were married, I introduced it to her."

With the history of the practice explained, Jesse opened the present and saw that his friend and he had similar tastes. It was a photograph Mrs. Burke had taken of them at the beach one afternoon, judging by the angle of the light. Then Jesse noticed something and looked at his friend's mother. She had to have taken the picture just seconds after his talk with her about Tom. He clearly recalled her calling out to them. They turned and she had snapped a picture. The huge sand fort they had built that afternoon was in the foreground, the ocean in the background. And he and Leslie stood waving, holding hands, perfect smiles on their face.

"Wow! This is really something, Leslie. Thank you." And Jesse, for the first time, initiated a hug – it was cheerfully returned.

* * *

Later that night, Leslie and her mother were sitting on their porch, bundled against the cool October night. The girl had not stopped thanking her parents for the wonderfully successful party, but she was quiet now.

"Something bothering you, Les?" her mother asked.

"Yes, but it shouldn't be."

"I see. Want to tell me? I can give you an unbiased opinion."

Leslie gave a little laugh. "I don't think so, at least not with this."

Judy Burke turned and motioned for her husband to go into the house in case it was a girl-thing her daughter needed to speak about. It wasn't, exactly.

"I didn't get my wish," Leslie said plainly.

"Your… what wish?"

"The one you make when you blow out the birthday candles."

"Ah, that wish. Let me guess: it has something to do with a young man we both know who paints?"

Leslie giggled, nodding.

"Are we going to play twenty questions or are you going to tell me?"

"Twenty questions."

"Ok, let's see. You're twelve, it has to do with Jess… let me see. You wished for a kiss?"

Leslie looked at her mother in awe, her eyes wide open. "How did you know?"

"It's a mother's thing, Les, you wouldn't understand." She paused and gave a better answer. "Actually, I used to be twelve once and I remember feeling that way, too."

"Did you get your wish?" she asked hopefully.

"No."

"Oh."

"But you might."

"Huh?"

Mrs. Burke pointed to the trees that lined the road to the Aarons' house. Jesse was walking up. Standing, Judy Burke kissed her daughter's head and left her to the evening visitor.

"Hey, Les." Jesse said, approaching the house. She could tell he was cold, or shivering for some other reason.

"Hi! Sit with me?" She patted the spot where her mother was moments before. He sat.

"I…I just wanted to let you know I had a great time today. I was worried that it wouldn't all work out…you know, with Mikey and the others."

Leslie smiled broadly. "Yeah, he turned out to be something, didn't he?"

"Yeah…" Jesse continued to sit, not speaking.

"You want to come in, Jess? It's getting cold." Her teeth were starting to clatter a bit, too.

"Uh, no, I need to get home. I just wanted to, you know, say thanks…and…you're my, um, friend, Les. I-I mean, my best friend. Thanks."

Jesse rose and trotted off to his house, Leslie sat quietly for a couple more minutes, until she was shivering so violently she couldn't stand it, then she retreated to the warmth of her home. Her mother was sitting in the living room and arched her eyebrows when her daughter passed. "Well?"

Leslie scrunched up her face and shook her head no.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Les. I didn't get the kiss either and things turned out ok for me. It will happen one day, before you know it."

"Yeah. Good night, Mom. I love you."

"Good night, Les, love you, too. And happy birthday."

_  
A/N: The scene of Bill Burke asking Jesse Aarons for forgiveness came directly from a July 13, 2007 report posted on CNN titled The Four Steps to Asking for Forgiveness, and were adapted from that article._

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	7. Part 2: The Movie

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 7 – The Movie  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story.  
_

November was Jesse Aarons' least favorite month. It reminded him of his family's poor financial situation, one that was steadily deteriorating. And in the past couple years, by the time the month ended, he felt he had little to be thankful for. On one Friday evening, mid-November, Leslie was visiting when Mr. Aarons returned home from work hours earlier than usual. The look on his face told much, and none of it good. Under the table, where Leslie and Jesse were sitting side-by-side, she felt him take her hand – a first for him. And it was trembling.

The entire family was aware of their father's job situation. His weekly commute to Northern Virginia was stressful enough without the difficulties of the rocketing gas prices of recent years. When their father showed up that Friday, November 16th, he told his wife that he had had enough. He could work for minimum wage in Roanoke, he explained, and make almost as much as he did in Arlington without the two hundred dollar a week fuel bill. It was simple math, really; he had little choice. But the thought of working for slightly less than six dollars an hour was acceptable to Jack Aarons, though it was not preferable.

The parents called an immediate family meeting. Leslie gave Jesse's hand a little squeeze, excused herself, and went home. As soon as she had left, Jesse felt a surge of panic, but he was too distracted by his father to connect the reaction to his friend's absence.

The meeting started with Mr. Aarons telling the family about his job, or lack of job, to be more precise. The only good news, he told everyone, was that he had taken a lump-sum disbursement of his small retirement fund so the family would have something to live on while he found work. There would have to be cut backs, he continued, at least until he found employment. The older children looked at each other wondering what else they could possibly cut back on.

When the meeting was over, Jesse's father talked to each of the older children individually, starting with his oldest daughter, Ellie. She was almost seventeen and her father wanted to know if there was anything she might be able to do to help the family financially. They batted a few ideas about before he turned to Brenda. Stuck-up and conceited, she offered little promise of assistance. Then it was Jesse's turn. His father started by telling him that he knew his son's age would keep him from working a steady job so he would have to count on him doing more chores around the house, when needed. The boy accepted the news, not having any other real choice.

As the meeting progressed, Jesse began to feel ill for his father, who he knew was a proud man. As best Jesse could recollect, he had never asked another person for help in his life. That had changed and he knew it was tearing the man up. Yet his father seemed resigned to the situation and appeared to keep up his spirits. His perpetually stony-faced expression, however, made it difficult to tell when he was down or not.

Late the following morning, with his father gone early into town and his chores complete, Jesse walked over to Leslie's house. There was a depressing pall settled over his own that morning, and he didn't want to be part of it. And he was thankful that she didn't jump out of the rhododendron to tackle him that day, he wasn't sure if he would have accepted the gesture politely.

Bill Burke greeted him somberly. "Hi, Jess, come in. Leslie tells us your father came home early last night. Is everything ok?" This was about as far into Mr. Aarons' business Bill Burke was willing to stick his nose, so far.

"He quit his job in Arlington, Mr. Burke, because of the gas prices. He'll find something here," Jesse finished, trying to sound optimistic. Mr. Burke knew the lad was putting on a show.

"Have a seat, Jess. I'll call Leslie down."

"I'm right here, Dad. _Hi Jess!_" they heard from the kitchen.

Seeing his friend picked up Jesse's spirits immediately, and he suspected that he came over for exactly that reason. He was amazed how she could always be so cheerful when she saw him.

"What some banana bread?" She offered him a taste of hers and he took it. Sharing a bite of food with someone had been anathema to Jesse, an act much along the lines of sharing a toothbrush. This time it didn't even register. He took the offered food.

"That's good. I haven't had a banana in…" He stopped himself. The family could afford little fresh fruit, and probably none now. Leslie sat on the sofa beside him.

"How did it go last night, after I left?" she asked quietly, hesitantly.

Jesse wanted to scream in frustration; instead he looked at Leslie and shrugged, trying to hold his pain inside. It worked for only a few seconds and then he crashed. There was something about his friend - he wasn't sure what - that made him want to tell her everything. His guilt at not being able to earn money to help his family; his guilt for wanting a banana. He felt guilty for a long list of things, most of which had nothing at all to do with him. When Leslie, in an attempt to comfort him, leaned over a little and pressed her shoulder against his arm, it backfired, in a way; it caused Jesse to remember the guilt he felt about her.

_Can Leslie come with us?_

And that was it - it had become more than he could take. He hadn't realized it started, but tears began, in copious quantities, and he then had to deal with embarrassment, too: feeling weak on top of everything else.

From Leslie's point of view, however, her friend's breakdown was long overdue. She knew Jesse's father placed too much responsibility on him, and she'd seen the fatigue and despair in his eyes many times. When he took her hand the night before she knew it was more from feeling helpless and frightened than affection. She sat silently with her best friend, not sure if she should talk of just sit there for him. Part of her – a big part of her – wanted to put her arms around Jesse and hold him, and try to make the pain go away.

Bill Burke found his wife and they stood silently, watching from well behind the kids, waiting to see if they were needed. They continued to watch as their daughter reached around Jesse, pulled him closer and guided his head into the crook of her neck. It was both heart-wrenching and loving, and both parents fought back tears, mostly unsuccessfully.

"I wish we could do something, Jude," Bill said softly. His wife nodded, feeling equally helpless.

A few minutes later, Leslie whispered to her friend and they got up. She called out loudly, "Mom, Dad, Jess and I are going for a walk. We'll be back..." She turned to get her coat and saw that her parents were close by, and had been watching them. It brought a flash of anger to the girl, but she could also tell that they were concerned for Jess, so she let it pass. This time.

The dull November sun seemed to barely warm the mountain air, and the swirling winds robbed the two kids of the slight protection their coats provided, but neither were focused on their own physical discomfort. Leslie listened as Jesse talked for a long time about the obvious issues of the moment, but also about his feeling of entrapment.

"Life looks like a dead-end here, Leslie. My father's family lived here, too, and we'll be stuck living and dying here, just like them." The tone of frustration and defeat coming from him was unsettling.

Not knowing if she should respond with an appropriately phrased prediction of a future that might be more desirous, Leslie prodded Jesse about his fears. "You really think you'll spend your whole life here?"

"Where else could I go? None of us will be able to afford college; my father wasn't. No college, no good job. So yeah, I think I'll spend my whole life here." Bitterness was creeping into his voice, too.

"You're eleven, Jess, do you really think you'll be in that house for another sixty years?" Leslie had stopped walking and held Jess back, too, while she waited for the answer.

"No, I guess not."

"_Neither do I, Jesse Aarons_. You're _better_ than that."

"I wish I could believe it."

"Believe it, Jess. You have to believe it to make it happen." Leslie gently punched his arm. "Remember Terabithia? We had to _believe_ in our dreams to make that happen." This seemed to cheer Jesse up somewhat. He started walking again and Leslie continued along beside him.

* * *

Good news came four days after Thanksgiving for the Aarons family: their father had been offered a position with a John Deer equipment rental in Boxley, not far from the Laser-Tag facility visited for Leslie's birthday. The job was not quite what he was looking for, but the pay was a little better than he expected. No benefits were available, either, until he moved into a supervisory job and that would be at least six months away. Jesse's parents had a long private discussion about the job and what it meant to the family, particularly in the area of health care. The family was healthier than most, Jesse's injuries the previous spring being the only significant expense since the baby was born. But their father's last job had provided some health care coverage; accepting the John Deer job would leave them vulnerable if there was a major illness or accident in the family.

In the end it came down to a matter of the immediate needs for money. The funds left over from the retirement account would continue to dwindle if Jesse's father continued looking for a job. The kids all needed clothing, especially Jesse who was having serious size issues with much of his already limited wardrobe. Accepting the job would allow the family to return to their less-strict budget and have something left over for the children's more immediate needs.

"I'm accepting the job in Boxley," Jesse's father announced at dinner the last day of November. He was greeted by cheers from his children and not a small sigh of relief from his son. Jesse thought he saw him smile for the first time since the accident seven months earlier.

The following day, the first of December, was a Saturday and Jesse sped through his chores to finish as quickly as possible so he could share with Leslie the good news. On the way down the drive to her house, the clouds that had been threatening rain and sleet all morning decided to dampen his visit and he arrived at the Burke's wet and with flecks of ice in his hair. Mrs. Burke immediately took him into the warm kitchen and gave him the cup of coco she had just prepared for her husband. Jesse accepted it gratefully.

"You look happy today, Jess. Good news?" Mrs. Burke asked.

"M-My father…got a job here in town," he gushed, a huge grin on his face.

"What's that, Jess?" Mr. Burke asked, having just entered the kitchen looking for his drink. He saw Jesse sipping it and gave his wife a pouting frown.

"My father got a job nearby. He starts Monday."

"_That's fantastic, Jess!_ I'm very happy for you and your family," Mr. Burke said sincerely. "I'll call Leslie down so you can give her the news."

A few minutes later, with Jesse and Leslie sitting in the kitchen talking, Judy and Bill Burke relaxed in the family room and shared their own thoughts.

"I hope this helps Jesse," Mrs. Burke started, referring to Jessef. "Leslie has been so concerned about him."

Bill smiled and nodded. "Yes, she has. Jude, I have an idea I want to run by you, and I need an honest opinion of whether you think it can work."

"When haven't I been honest with you?" she retorted, turning to him and batting her eyes. He kissed her lovingly.

Over the next few minutes, Bill explained to his wife the idea. And she gave him the confirmation he expected: it was a great idea, _if _Jesse can do it and _if_ his father agrees. "I think it will give him a real boost. I'll contact Manny on Monday." But in the recesses of his mind, Bill Burke was wondering if he really was helping the boy. _Of course I am…I just have to convince his father._

Late the following week, Bill Burke's answer arrived from Manny, one of his contacts with his publisher. And along with the answer was a number. Bill whistled in surprise.

"Fantastic, Manny, I'll start working on this end of the proposal. Fax me the papers? Ok, that's fine. And thanks again." He ran out of his office and found his wife. "Jude, they'll take a look at it."

His wife knew instantly what he was talking about. "You, my love, still have a lot of work to do. Don't get your hopes up too high."

The comment took just a little of the smile off his face. "_Right!_"

* * *

Since her birthday, Leslie had regularly accepted a standing invitation to visit Jesse every Friday evening and, in the words of her parents, destroy her brain cells watching television. The truth was that they watched little TV, spending most of the time talking, writing, drawing and playing games. Jesse's parents, the baby and May Belle spent almost every Friday evening at the church partaking in some social or liturgical function. His next oldest sister, surprisingly, had a date, leaving Ellie to watch the 'kids' and study. On the fourteenth of December, when Leslie walked into the Aarons' family room, she found Jesse fighting with his oldest sister about a movie she had rented.

"Hi Jess, what's wrong?"

Jesse's sister tossed the movie on the table and left without another word, but Leslie was certain she was trying to hide a smirk of some sort. "I asked her to pick up a good movie for us to watch tonight." Jesse fumed, having promised Leslie a movie for them that evening.

Leslie walked to the table, tossing her coat over a chair. "_My Girl_? Ever see it?"

"No! Does it sound like a movie I'd watch?"

His friend wasn't sure if she should be angered by the comment or not. "It sounds ok, Jess. Let's check it out. If we don't like it we can do something else."

Jesse muttered a stream of rude sounding words with 'Ellie' being the only one Leslie could understand, then sat heavily on the large cushy chair, not feeling at all like watching what he thought was a '_chick-flick_' sitting next to his…friend. _My Girl, Pfff._ Leslie looked resignedly at Jesse and sat at her usual place on the sofa.

It didn't take Leslie long to realize why Brenda had chosen the movie. She stole occasional glances at Jesse as he sat with his arms folded, looking very much like he had been tied into the chair and his eyelids stuck open with toothpicks forcing him to watch every moment of the show against his will. About halfway through, Leslie took the battered VHS remote and found the pause button.

"Jess, how about some popcorn?"

He rose, grumbling, and tossed a bag into the microwave, saying nothing. While waiting for the oven to finish he dug some celery sticks out of the fridge and brought two glasses of water to the table. The oven beeped and in a minute they were all set. When Jesse made to return to his seat, Leslie asked him to sit with her. "It's easier to share the popcorn," she explained.

He sat down heavily at the _far_ end of the cocktail table.

"You enjoying the movie?" she ventured.

"It's ok," he allowed. "Vada's character is cute."

Leslie sighed and restarted the movie, wondering if she would ever receive such magnanimous praise from Jesse.

When the climax of the movie arrived, Leslie struggled to pause the movie and then burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. "_How could someone write a movie like this?_" she asked angrily. "It was so sweet…and…and then…" She started crying again and after a few seconds turned to look at her friend. He was gone.

"Jess? Where are you?" Leslie called out, wiping the tears from her face. She was pretty certain he wasn't outside, she would have heard the door. That left only the upstairs, and she'd never been there before. She called up to Jesse but the only thing she heard was Ellie's voice mocking her. _Probably thinks I can't hear her,_ Leslie fumed, thoroughly disgusted with Jesse's sister. Then she walked up and started looking for Jesse's bedroom.

"Jess?" _Nothing here_.

"Jess?" _Looks like his parent's room_.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked, seeing Jesse seated on his bed in the next room she came to, sketch pad on his lap, drawing furiously. He didn't answer. "Earth to Captain Underpants…Jesse?" This time he glanced up, his face seemed to ask her to wait.

"_What is it, Jess?_" Leslie persisted.

"_Will you shut up?!_" he snapped, far more rudely than he had ever spoken to her before.

"_YOU shut up, yourself_," Leslie shot back, just as impolitely. But she remained watching him; he ignored her and went back to drawing.

After another minute or so he threw his pencil down and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Leslie craned her neck to see what it was he was drawing, but she could only make out what looked like a large smudge. Neither spoke for another minute.

"Sorry," Jesse finally said, sounding utterly spent.

"'S'ok. What happened?"

"I don't know. Remember a few weeks ago when I slept through lunch and fifth period? When I saw that part of the movie…when he...he dies…" He became very quiet and looked away for a few seconds. "It was like I had to draw something from inside me…I - I can't explain it, except that this time I know I was awake."

He silently handed his drawing pad to Leslie. She looked at it, but it still looked like a big cloud of dust. She shrugged her shoulders and handed the pad back. "Beats me."

"What?"

"'Beats me.' It's an expression my parents use. It means I have no idea. Wanna watch the rest of the movie?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

He seemed calmer now. "Ok, I guess I'll head out. Can you walk me home?"

"Yeah. Sorry about tonight." He jumped up and passed Leslie who was still standing in the doorway.

"It's ok."

The walk back to the Burke's house was eerily quiet. Leslie could tell something had changed in her friend, but he was so edgy that she didn't want to ask again. There was one thing she could try, and she did. Leslie stopped and grabbed Jesse's arm, twirling him so they were facing each other. Then she hugged him. It didn't work: he pushed her away.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, but his tone was more surprised than angry.

"You acted like you needed it."

Jesse looked at her askance. "Well…" he mumbled, "thanks." Then changing the subject completely, "Les, do you ever dream that you're swimming across a lake but never reach the other side?"

She smiled. "Not that one. My dreams are mostly about going to schools without my shoes." They both laughed. She didn't dare mention some of her more recent ones. "Have you been having strange dreams?"

"No," he answered too quickly.

She nudged him. "Jess?"

"Ok, yes. But I don't really remember them, just that they're sort of sad."

"Is that why the movie bothered you?"

"Maybe," he hedged. The walked along in silence a little longer. "Sorry."

"About what?"

"I dunno; being rude, pushing you away."

Leslie stopped them again. "Jess, my mother told me that I should watch out for people who don't show emotions. She said that those are the people who keep everything inside and die young from heart attacks or strokes…or something like that."

"She probably didn't mean people acting like I was."

"I'm sure that's exactly what she meant, Jess. If you can't let yourself go in front of your friends then you probably aren't friends."

"Come on, it's freezing," he beckoned with his hand. Leslie took it, relieved, but Jesse soon let go.

Sighing, she followed. Jesse said nothing else that night.

* * *

"Mom, Dad?" Leslie looked into her parent's bedroom. Both were sitting with their backs propped up, reading.

"Hi Les. What's up?" her father asked, his eyes remaining glued to his manuscript, a red pen in his hand and a black behind his ear. Her mother, however, did look up and saw that her daughter had been crying. _Uh-oh!_

"Have you guys ever seen the movie, _My Girl_?"

Distracted by the question, Judy Burke looked at her husband. "Didn't we see that in the theatre? _YES! _I remember. Wasn't the girl an undertaker?"

"That was her father, Mom."

"Right, oh!" She thought for a few seconds. "I do remember now. That was a terribly sad movie. Didn't her friend die at the end?"

"That's the one."

"What's your question, Les?"

"What happened to Vada, the boy's friend? Was she alright?"

"Didn't you watch the end? I'm afraid I don't remember that much about it, Les. What about you, Bill?" They received a negative sounding grunt for a reply. "Sorry, Les." As she was about to leave her mother asked another question. "Did Jess pick that movie out?"

"No, it was his _stupid_ sister, Ellie."

"Ah, that explains a lot." She noticed that her daughter thought little of Ellie Aarons, also.

Leslie gave her parents a little wave and disappeared from the doorway. But Judy Burke hadn't forgotten the look on her daughter's face when she first came in. _Probably just because it was a sad movie._ She went back to her book.

A half hour later, Judy was on her computer looking up the movie on the Internet Movie Database. She scanned through the quotes, memories flooding back as she read the poem Vada wrote about her dead friend, Thomas, and the weeping willow tree. When finished she headed back to bed, but stopped when she heard a noise. Leslie was crying again. She tapped on the bedroom door before walking in.

"Les? Are you ok?"

"No," she sobbed, knowing it was useless to try to hide her crying any longer.

Her mother sat on the side of the bed and rubbed her daughter's back. "Want to tell me about it?"

There was a long pause before she answered bluntly, "I think Jesse hates me."

At first Judy Burke almost laughed at the absurdity of the statement. She knew of no other two children who were closer than her daughter and Jesse Aarons. Fortunately she caught herself.

"I…find that difficult to believe, Les. Why don't you tell me what happened."

Leslie described the evening, the movie, Jesse's strange disappearance (though she omitted going up to his room to look for him, and the drawing) finishing with the walk home. "I hugged him and he pushed me away…I was just trying to make him feel better," she finished, choking up again.

Judy let her daughter calm down a little before she spoke again. When she did, she hoped it would help.

"But you said he was ok later, and you left on friendly terms." There was no reply. "Les, think of what that movie was about: A boy and girl, about Jess and your age, who became best friends…and then the boy died suddenly. Does that sound familiar to you?"

"I know, b-but I didn't die, Mom," Leslie cried.

"Les, as odd as this sounds, even though Jesse saved your life, your father and I believe he blames himself for your accident. I know that sounds backwards, but I'll bet that movie forced some bad memories out and set something off in him."

_You're not kidding_, Leslie thought, again wondering if she should mention the drawing to her mother. "Why would he do that, feel guilty? He didn't do anything wrong."

Judy stood for a moment and then climbed into her daughter's bed and snuggled up to her. But this wasn't the little girl she'd last done it with years before. The quarters were tight, now. Then she continued.

"When Jess was trying to get you breathing again, after the accident, your father heard him repeat something over and over. We talked about it a little later, and your father spoke with Ms. Edmonds, your music teacher last year. I guess this part of the story never got around to you." Judy Burke rubbed her face, wishing parenting was a little easier. "That day, Jess was going up to Washington with Ms. Edmonds to the National Portrait Gallery. She had seen his drawings and wanted him to see an exhibit. When they were at the stop sign in front of our house, Ms. Edmonds asked Jess if something was wrong; he was staring out the window at our house. She told your father that Jess started to say no, but blurted out, _'Can Leslie come with us?'_"

"I never heard this," Leslie said quietly.

"I told you, silly. So, your father and I think Jess feels more responsible for you being hurt than he feels good about saving your life. That's a little over-simplified, but it's our theory."

Leslie lay quietly for a long time. Then she re-asked the earlier question. "Why did he push me away when I hugged him? He's never done that before."

A sigh. _Here we go…_ "Les, the answer to that question is both very simple and extraordinarily complicated. Remember what we talked about last year when your period started? All the differences between boys and girls at different ages? I think Jess has a little catching up to do, that's all. He's six months younger than you in age, and probably more in other, uh, boy-ways...maturity, that sort of thing, too."

Leslie thought about this for a couple minutes and seemed to accept the logic. "So you don't think he hates me?"

"Les, I _know _he doesn't hate you. It's time for bed now. You know you can talk to me any time, right? Good. Sweet dreams, honey."

"'Night, Mom."

The next morning, Judy Burke watched her daughter fiddle around at breakfast far longer than usual. She finally took the plate out from in front of her and told her to take a walk. She knew Leslie was putting off facing Jesse so she gave her daughter a verbal kick in the pants. "_Go!_ I'll be here if you need me."

Hesitantly, Leslie walked down the drive towards Jesse's house. Each step felt like an inch and a sickening dread filled her stomach and chest.

_He's not going to come out any more. I know it!_

Reaching the halfway point, Leslie considered turning back, but she steeled herself and trudged on, if for no other reason than to find out, once and for all, if her fears had any foundation.

A solid blow knocked the wind out of Leslie and she fell to the ground feeling like a sack of potatoes had fallen on her. She heard an odd ringing in her head that rapidly changed from a tone to a voice. _Oh, no…_

"Sorry, guess I hit you a little too hard," Jesse said, climbing off his friend.

"_YOU! I – I should…I should…"_

"What? Stutter me to death?" Jesse laughed, not missing a beat. He jumped up and offered Leslie a hand. She was most angry for having fallen for her own trick of hiding behind the rhododendron, especially since it was now leafless and offered little in the way of cover. But then it struck her, _He doesn't hate me!_ And she instantly grabbed Jesse's hand to get onto her feet.

"Sorry about last night, Les. I let the movie get to me. I mean, I understand if you're mad…_OUCH!_ Why'd you punch me?" His voice was a little harsh but he was still smiling.

"That was for pushing me away last night." Then she touched his arm. "I'm sorry, too, Jess. I shouldn't have tried to…fix you. Still friends?" she asked hopefully, though she already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Jesse replied with a shy smile.

* * *

_A/N: A few things about this story and chapter._

The movie, My Girl (1991) starring Macaulay Culkin and Anna Chlumsky, is a delightfully touching movie about friendship and loss – sound familiar?. It has a lot more humor than BtT, too. I found it well done (back in '91) and that it didn't upset me as much as BtT when the main character died. (But that may be because I don't care much for Culkin as an actor.) There are a number of similarities between the two movies, including Vada having a crush on her teacher, the children's ages, et cetera. Dan Aykroyd, as Vada's father, adds a lot to the movie you don't get from Robert Patrick (Jesse's father) I highly recommend it, even though I've spoiled the climax of the movie for you.

Below is the poem Vada (Chlumsky) 'wrote' as part of accepting Thomas's (Culkin) death:

Weeping willow with your tears running down,  
Why do you always weep and frown?  
Is it because he left you one day?  
is it because he could not stay?  
On your branches he would swing,  
Do you long for the happiness that day would bring?  
He found shelter in your shade.  
You thought his laughter would never fade.  
Weeping willow, stop your tears.  
There is something to calm you fears.  
You think death has ripped you forever apart.  
But I know he'll always be in your heart.

- From _My Girl_, by Laurice Elehwany

Finally, the 'Stutter me to death' joke is a line from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ copyright © 2005 by J. K. Rowling.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	8. Part 2: The Gesture

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 8 – The Gesture**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story.  
_

"_Yes_, Scott, I realize that everyone here might not celebrate Christmas, that's why I didn't call the assignment, _My Favorite Christmas Gift_. It can be a birthday gift, a Chanukah, gift…now what?" Mrs. Walters asked; she appeared anxious to throw something heavy at Scott Hoager.

"What if someone's too poor to buy a gift?" the annoying bully asked, looking directly at Jesse Aarons sitting two rows across from him.

"Mr. Hoager, I'm sure there _are_ people too poor to buy gifts, but this assignment isn't _about_ giving, it's about receiving. A poor person can receive a gift, now can't they?"

Hoager tried one more time. "I guess so, Mrs. Walters; sorry…I was just wondering if there was someone in this class who might have wanted to receive a _nice_ gift from Aarons but since he doesn't have any money…"

"_SCOTT HOAGER! HALLWAY! NOW!_" the teacher howled, finally having had enough. Taking a quick glance to her left, she saw that Jesse Aarons' face was red and his eyes looked glassy. The endless feud between the two boys had gotten worse as the Christmas holidays approached. Jesse was usually tolerant of the barbs, but this one appeared to be bothering him.

"_Children!_ I'll be back in a couple minutes. I want everyone to work on page…103 of their grammar workbooks. _And not a word._" The door slammed shut as Mrs. Walters exited the room.

It was an interesting fact about middle school teachers, Jesse Aarons had told Leslie Burke the previous year after he gave the same tormentor a bloody nose: The harder the door slams shut the more trouble the child was in. He even went so far as to demonstrate his intensity scale one afternoon when they both had detention for disrupting class. There were five flag hanging from the ceiling across the front of the room: The US flag, the Virginia state flag, the county flag, the school district flag and the ever-present triangular safety-patrol flag. (Jesse thought this one was particularly peculiar since middle schools didn't use safety patrols.) The room door swung out into the hallway, so when Mrs. Walters, or some other teacher in another room, slammed the door it created a current of air that ruffled the flags. As Jesse demonstrated the various levels of intensity to Leslie, she watched on in amusement until he approached level five and was whisked-off, ear first, to the principal's office, presumably to receive punishment for further disruptions.

Following the Hoager incident, the remainder of the morning was spent watching videos in homeroom – most of them old Wild Kingdom episodes with boring narration. The lunch ladies served their yearly infamous winter holiday meal, turkey surprise, and the entire afternoon was spent cleaning the school as the children moved from room to room. This was a particularly galling activity since most of the kids had to go home shortly and clean their own homes for visitors, or simply because school was out, a reasoning Jesse never quite understood.

As the two friends moved from room to room, they began to notice, little by little, a rumbling of something they had not heard before. It was usually subtle, and Jesse laughed off the first few comments. By sixth period, however, it was becoming impossible to ignore. Between sixth and seventh period it continued in earnest, and it appeared Scott Hoager might have the last laugh before the break.

First there was Joey Sennett, a well-meaning but hopelessly clueless boy about two feet taller than the rest of his classmates. He ran up behind Jesse and Leslie, and with a stench of breath which seemed to prove the common belief that he only brushed his teeth on Sundays, and probably only after church, asked them what they were doing for Christmas. This was neither an uncommon nor an unusual interrogative on December 21st. Christmas was only a few days away. Neither though much of it and shrugged saying they weren't doing much at all.

Next was Wendy Longwood, one of the girls from Leslie's twelfth birthday party who was as likely to gossip about her friends as defend them. She met Jesse and Leslie at their lockers and stood staring and smiling inanely until both turned to ask her what was wrong. Her response was something along the lines of, "Nothing at all, I'm so happy…" Then she walked off, throwing frequent disturbingly happy looks back their way. This might have been Jesse and Leslie's first significant clue about what was happening if the ambient noise in the hallway had not drowned out the last two words of her rapturous comment: "…for you!"

Following Wendy was Mikey Sellers, who, by this point, had become one of the better-dressed kids at school thanks to Leslie's heroic efforts since September. The three of them had enjoyed an easy camaraderie since the party, but were seldom all together since he was in none of their classes, and neither Jesse nor Leslie usually played with the girls at recess. Mikey's comment was much along the same line as Joey Sennett's: "What are you doing for the holidays?" He was using the plural form of the pronoun _you, _as in_ you two_.

Back on the move to their final class of the day, Jesse asked Leslie if she had any idea why everyone was asking them about Christmas. Leslie did not, especially, she said, since most of their classmates knew she didn't celebrate the holiday.

Seventh period was a nightmare. While sitting and waiting for their cleaning instructions, as told, (which was also patently absurd since the instructions were exactly the same for every room: wash the blackboard, sweep the cloakroom, wash the desk tops, et cetera,) Jesse and Leslie noticed that much of the comments and less-than-furtive looks in the room were directed at them.

Both of them.

At this point, Jesse had a feeling someone had taken aim at him. He turned to see Scott Hoager smirking. Then, to his horror, he saw Scott was puckering up his lips, as if he was going to kiss someone. This was particularly disturbing until Hoager pointed to Leslie, then back to him, then back to Leslie, then back to him. He finished his antics making a loud smooching sound. It was now completely and painfully clear to Jesse, as well as Leslie who had turned to see what her friend was looking at, what all the chatter and questions were about. They were about them. As in _Jesse & Leslie_.

With his ire raised and defenses up, Jesse treated the class to one of his finer displays of rude hand gestures. Apparently, this was exactly what Hoager was waiting for.

"What's wrong, Aarons? Hitting a little too close to home?"

Leslie had to physically restrain Jesse from, assumedly, punching Hoager and making things worse. Fortunately, just as Hoager was starting a round of, "_Burke and Aarons sitting in a tree…_" the teacher arrived and disrupted his fun. For the next forty-five minutes, Leslie found herself trying to keep the two boys from starting anything more disruptive than throwing erasers at the other, but this only fed into the rumor Hoager had started. By the time the day was finished, Scott Hoager had been able to educe enough denials and embarrassed looks from Jesse to prove _his_ claims that the friends were a 'couple.'

With one exception, the bus ride home that Friday carried the happy sounds of the middle school children starting a three-week vacation. Even Leslie seemed unaffected by the earlier taunting and tried to get Jesse to forget the last couple hours of school. If he was happy for anything, however, it was only because he wouldn't have to see Scott Hoager the rest of the year.

When Jesse, May Belle, and Leslie got off the bus, all three walked towards the Burke house for coco, as they had begun doing regularly since earlier in the month. Mrs. Burke had their mugs ready, including May Belle's pink bunny-shaped cup with three large marshmallows dissolving in the hot chocolaty liquid. If she noticed Jesse's quiet demeanor that afternoon she said nothing about it, and the Aarons left shortly thereafter for home.

"Jesse, you can call me May now," the soon-to-be eight year old stated just after they had reached the drive to their house.

"What?"

"I don't like 'May Belle' no more. Please just call me May."

"You can't just change your name like that, May Belle…"

"_May!_"

"_MAY BELLE!_ That's your name. What's wrong with it anyway?"

"I don't like it. Everyone calls me 'Mable'," she answered very seriously.

Jesse sighed. "Do you think Mom and Dad will let you get away with it?"

May Belle looked intensely pensive for a few seconds, as if she had not thought through that minor detail, then declared, "Yes, they have to. It's my name and I can do whatever I want with it."

Jesse shrugged and let it go; it wasn't as if she wanted to change her name to Perpetua or Anastasia. "Alright, May, if Mom and Dad go along, I can, too."

May stopped and smiled at her brother and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "You're the best brother ever," she proclaimed. Then she released him, took his hand, and started running the last hundred yards to their house.

* * *

Christmas 2007 was a far more joyous occasion than the Aarons family had celebrated in many years. Indeed, Jesse could hardly recall the last time his father had been around in the days preceding the holiday, let alone in a good mood. The change of jobs seemed to have worked a minor miracle on the man. While he was still hard to understand and undemonstrative, the pressure of the long commutes gave him much more time with his wife and family, which he clearly enjoyed. Money was still tight, but the previous omnipresent sense of poverty was lifted, not completely, but enough to materially change the household. Long neglected necessities began to show up by the second half of December (including bananas) topped off by each child receiving a generous allowance for Christmas shopping. Jesse suspected that between his siblings' stipends, and other material improvements about the house, much of his father's retirement savings had been expended.

There was one problem Jesse faced, however, for which he still did not have an answer: Leslie Burke's Christmas gift. Jesse had spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Burke earlier in the week about this. In itself, this was something of a feat since his friend was difficult to avoid in her own home. He was finally able to convince her to take May on a short walk, feigning a sore ankle, to have a few minutes alone with her parents. The conversation was something of a surprise to Jesse: He had known for some time that the Burkes did not celebrate religious holidays, but he learned they did partake in exchanging gifts at Christmas due to their extended family and many nieces and nephews who did likewise.

As for what sort of gift they thought might be appropriated, they brought up the birthday present he had given Leslie and how much she liked those types of personal gifts. But Jesse knew he could not create something that personal in the time remaining, and he had used up all the paints he'd received from Leslie for his birthday months earlier. Leslie's parents then mentioned a few things their daughter had spoken about over the past year, but they all seemed out of his price range. Indeed, on a couple of the items they listed, the Burkes insisted Jesse not consider them. Whether that was due to a price related concern, or they were already giving their daughter that gift, he wasn't certain. Either way, he returned home with May later that morning no better off that when he arrived.

By the twenty-third of December, Jesse was in a near panic. He and the rest of the family had made a daylong excursion into Roanoke to buy gifts, but even after hours poking in and out of stores he was no better off than when the day began. In fact, he was in a tighter spot for he had spent almost all his gift allowance on presents for his family. So when the Aarons met that evening for dinner at one of the mall's many fast-food establishment, everyone was in the Christmas spirit except Jesse. Still, he put on the best face he could so as to not spoil the family's cheer.

Christmas Eve arrived the next morning and Jesse lay in bed fearing the end of his friendship with Leslie was imminent. He had been up much of the night, wracking his brain, trying to think of something simple yet meaningful he could do for his best friend. This was also the first time Jesse was aware that, because his best friend was a girl, she required something other than a pack of onion gum or fake dog poo from the Dollar General Store, the type of gift he could easily have given to a male friend, and would be appreciated.

May, seeing her brother was looking upset, and not at all interested in joining the land of the physically and mentally functional, 'knocked' on the sheet separating their beds and announced that she was visiting, whether Jesse was ready or not. Her brother protested but May was sitting on his bed before he could say anything except, "I don't…"

"What's wrong, Jess?" May asked with absolute sincerity, as if she could conjure away any problem he might have.

"I can't think of something to give Leslie for Christmas. She's going to hate me if I don't do something."

"She won't hate you, Jess, she loves you. And you're her best friend; best friends don't hate each other."

Jesse had to smile at his sisters somewhat circular logic. "Maybe she won't hate me, but I have to give her something."

May sat with her chin in her hand, in a 'Thinker' pose. Jesse found it highly amusing. He was also quite curious about what his little sister would come up with and was happy to leave the thinking to someone else for a moment. About thirty seconds into her cogitation, May started giggling. Then she stopped. Then she started up again. By the fourth round of giggles, Jesse's patience was wearing thin and he asked his sister what was so funny. She leaned over and whispered her idea into his ear.

"May, don't get gross on me; think of something else." It was a relief for Jesse to be able to scold someone else for his own lack of ideas.

May did have a few more suggestions, but Jesse didn't think Leslie would really want Barbie clothes, and he suspected, based on the eager grin of his sister, that if he gave his friend such a gift, while being accepted graciously, it would soon find its way into May's collection of doll outfits. He thanked his sister and told her he would consider her suggestions, whereupon the girl ran happily off to breakfast.

Still frustrated, Jesse sat back in bed and pulled out his sketchpad, doodled for a while, and then went to get washed and dressed for the day. At the kitchen table fifteen minutes later, Jesse's frustration was advanced further by his older sisters, to whom May had, apparently, shared his distress over Leslie's gift.

"Here, Jesse, maybe Leslie would like to have one of these." His next oldest sister, Brenda, handed him a paper bag that he took suspiciously; anything from Brenda was suspect, if not downright dangerous or rude. This was no exception.

Peering into the bag, it took Jesse a moment to figure out what it was. When he did, he turned bright red and threw the bag back at his sister who was trying to stifle her hysterics by covering her mouth. Ellie picked up the bag, dumped it on the table, and started laughing, also. The timely arrival of their mother and baby sister was the only thing that brought the situation under control.

Jesse, hurt and embarrassed, was just standing to leave. Mrs. Aarons saw his discomfort and, as she had become accustomed to, followed the sound of laughter to her eldest daughters and saw the item lying on the table. May, who was innocently wondering why Jesse would find the gift unappealing, explained what was going on her mother.

"Mommy, Brenda though Jesse might like to give Leslie this for Christmas." She held up the object only to have Brenda snatch it from her and return it to the bag. But her actions were too late, she knew, when her mother exploded, red faced, shrieking as badly as any of them could recall, frightening the baby, and sending both girls to her room for further verbal thrashings. Just before she left the room, handing Jesse the baby, she told him to wait for her to return.

Over the next few minutes, Jesse and May heard four voices hollering at each other, one being their father who must have just finished his shower and walked in on his wife's tirade. It was ugly, Jesse knew, and he didn't care, either. When the screaming stopped, he heard the girls' bedroom doors slam shut and his parents came down the stairs.

"Jesse," his mother started, "I'm sorry about your sister's actions. To make it up to you they… _volunteered_ to give you their Christmas gift money." His mother handed him two plain envelopes, one labeled _Ellie_ the other _Brenda_ on the front. Jesse looked into one of them.

"We were going to give you all a little more spending money for Christmas, but the girls thought you might like to have their share now so you could buy Leslie something nice."

"You can have yours now, too, son, if you want," his father added, the envelope in his hand.

"You can have mine, Jess!" May proclaimed, earning her a proud look from her parents.

"Jess, I have to go into town to pick up some things for your mother. If you like, I can drop you off at the mall to do your shopping."

"Um, yeah, thanks, Dad…Mom. That would be great." Jesse accepted his own envelope from his father and ran upstairs to get his shoes. Sitting on the bed, he took the money from the three envelopes and stuffed it in his pocket. _Thirty dollars!_ Jesse thought happily. _I've never had that much money. Maybe I can get Leslie something nice!_

A few minutes later, after Jesse and his father had left for town, May was helping her mother with the breakfast dishes and chatting away non-stop. At one point, she mentioned how difficult a time her brother was having thinking of something for 'his girlfriend,' as she often titled Leslie.

"I think my first suggestion to Jesse was the best, Mommy," May stated decisively when she heard her mother talking about the 'cruel joke' his sisters had played.

"And what was your suggestion, pumpkin?"

May put her arms around her mother's neck and pulled her closer to whisper into her ear.

"You told your brother that?" Mary Aarons asked in shock.

"Yep."

"And what did he say back to you?" She was immensely curious about this.

"He said I was gross."

The dishes were completed over the next quarter hour. Every once in a while Mary would chuckle at some unrevealed thought. May sat on the counter watching and wondering why her mother was acting so amused.

* * *

When Jesse and his father returned home that afternoon, Bill and Judy Burke were waiting inside the house. Mrs. Aarons was chatting away, Jesse noticed, in a way that he had never observed her before: lively and very happily. _It must be the season._

"Merry Christmas; Mr. Burke, Mrs. Burke," Jack said formally and politely, shaking some snow off his hat and coat as he hung them.

"Jess, wait," his mother said before her son could take off his winter clothes. "Mr. and Mrs. Burke were hoping you'd go and keep Leslie company while we have a little talk."

"Would you mind, Jess?" Mrs. Burke added in way of confirming the request.

"No, sure." He put his hat back on and ran out the door.

Mr. Aarons poured himself a cup of coffee, taking his time to join the other three adults. He noticed that the four girls were nowhere to be seen.

"Jack, Bill and Judy want to talk to us about something…important."

"What? May Belle change the date again?" Mr. Aarons spoke directly to Bill Burke and noticed his smile. Both wives hadn't a clue about what the comment meant - neither husband had shared the little joke with them. "Never mind. Looks to me like they've already told you what it is, Mary," Mr. Aarons said, changing his friendly tone to a more suspicious one. "If you like it why do you need me?"

"Mr. Aarons, we only told your wife some of the… preliminary ideas. We need your input, and quite frankly, we need your permission for this to come off."

Mr. Aarons sat back without another word, and waited. When the Burke's started explaining their idea, Jack Aarons found his neighbors deserved a fair amount more respect and trust than he had been allowing them. He said almost nothing for a half-hour, but when the Burkes finished their presentation he stood and offered them both his hand, an action, Bill Burke knew, meant he approved of the idea.

"One other thing, Mr. and Mrs. Aarons," Bill added before leaving. "Leslie said she would like to attend Christmas service with you tomorrow, if that would be alright."

"Of course, Bill, Judy, we'd love to have her," Mary exclaimed. Her husband, she noticed, did not seem quite as enthusiastic about the idea, but said nothing to alter the arrangement.

Bill offered his hand to Jesse's parents again, wishing them a Merry Christmas, and then they were gone.

"Did Jess find something for Leslie?" Mary asked her husband after their guests had departed.

The _yes_ that came as a reply was short and harsh, indicating her husband did not think much of the gift.

"Well, what is it?"

"A book."

And with that he left his wife wondering what was all so bad about a book.

* * *

Jesse woke early Christmas morning to his sister, May, shaking him vigorously. "Jesse! Jesse! Come downstairs. Santa Clause visited us. I think he might have accidentally given us someone else's presents, too. Oh, Jesse! Come on! Will we have to give them back, do you think?"

Groaning at the hour, and the lack of natural light, Jesse tumbled out of bed scratching his head and dragging his feet. He headed for the closet to get his robe and then tripped on some toy of May's that felt like an unclothed Barbie doll. In the distance he could hear May calling her older sisters and an exclamation from her that sounded like, "That was very rude, Ellie." He could only imagine what she had said.

Down the stairs and into the family room, Jesse only stopped to turn up the furnace. His father usually set it to sixty degrees at night to conserve gas. It was a good idea but made the job of the first person up in the morning a little uncomfortable. When he heard the furnace kick in, he grabbed a throw and lay on the couch, covering himself as best he could and waiting for the rest of the family to show up.

Over the next half hour, amid cries of 'leave me alone' and 'go away,' Ellie and Brenda were roused and sent down by their parents. Ellie walked by Jesse and took the throw; Brenda jerked a pillow from under his head. The final person to arrive was their mother holding the still sleeping baby close to her for warmth. May's claim to Santa making a mistake appeared to have credibility, Jesse noted, seeing more gifts in one place than he'd ever seen before. When everyone was assembled Mr. Aarons told the kids to 'dig in,' and they did.

For the first time in his life, Jesse was elated to receive clothing as a gift. His shirts were worn and no amount of washing seemed to be able to remove all the dirt and odor he was beginning to produce in prodigious quantities. Pants, jeans, socks, dress shirts, even underwear, he didn't think he'd ever been so truly thankful for such gifts. And the rest of the family received similar, even Brenda and Ellie seemed to be genuinely thankful for the contributions to their wardrobes.

Under the many packages of clothing were not a few more gifts. The first Jesse opened was a new set of drawing pencils, the kind he had silently yearned for in an art store a few days earlier. But he knew it had to be a cheep imitation, the one in the store had cost…! Another package contained pastels and a third, oils and brushes. When he saw the heavyweight drawing paper and a few small canvases in a bag deep under the pine Christmas tree he had to fight back tears. He knew his parents must have spent more money on him than all the others combined, and by the looks he was receiving from Ellie and Brenda, they thought so, too.

Afraid to say anything, for by this point he was getting choked-up, he went to his parents and embraced both with more feeling than he can ever remember showing. Even his father displayed emotions Jesse thought he had long forgotten.

When everyone was finished opening gifts, Mr. Aarons walked over to the tree and withdrew a small pile of envelopes hidden in the branches, the ones Jesse knew contained the cash gift his parents were giving to the children. But his father looked at the pile with confusion and then flipped through them. He handed one to May, two to his wife (one was for the baby) one he placed in his shirt pocket, and then he looked at the two remaining. There shouldn't have been any, the older girls had 'given' their gift to Jesse, yet there _were_ two more envelopes with their names on them. Mrs. Aarons shrugged. Jesse's father looked into both envelopes, saw the money, and scratched his head. Then he shrugged again, as if that would explain the unexpected appearance of the money, and handed the two girls their envelopes. All this time, Jesse was feigning interest in a pair of socks. When his father saw this, he walked into the kitchen and called his son in after him.

"Jess, did you put those envelopes in the tree for your sisters?" he asked, knowing full well he had.

"Yes, sir."

"Why? That was for you to get something for your friend." Although his voice and face were clearly showing annoyance, Jesse's father's eyes displayed respect.

"What I got Leslie was less than ten dollars. I just didn't want…you know, any more friction in the house." Jesse started to turn away but his father clamped a strong hand on his shoulder.

"That was mighty good of you, son. I'm proud of you."

Jesse just nodded and watched his father walk back to the tree. He wanted desperately to stop him and ask about his own gifts. He wanted to know what had happened that made his parents feel he needed or deserved the art equipment, but he couldn't. He _had_ wanted them, very much. The paints Leslie had given him on his eleventh birthday were long used up and it had been two months since he could do anything except pencil and crude charcoal pictures. He said a silent prayer of thanks and rejoined the family, cleaning up the discarded wrapping paper and ribbons and getting the table ready for breakfast.

Over the next two hours, while the family prepared, ate, and cleaned up the Christmas morning meal, the only thing Jesse could think of was seeing Leslie and showing her his paints – and giving her his gift. He found himself, more frequently than not, looking out the front window at the thin coating of ice and snow, wishing he could put on his new boots and run to his friend's house. He couldn't wait to go to Christmas Mass with her, stand next to her and share a hymnal. He even found himself hoping she would join his family for the Lord's Prayer and hold his hand.

And then there was the Gesture of Peace! Jesse found he didn't want to give Leslie a silly little wave like he had eight months earlier. Lord, no! And a handshake seemed absurdly pathetic at this point in their friendship. He was certain she would accept a hug from him… but what kind of hug? A one-armed guy-hug that would hardly show her how he was feeling that day…? A 'full-body' embrace…?

Then reality came crashing down; he remembered the paper bag and the horrible gift his sister suggested. _A 'training bra.'_ Jesse felt like every emotion, every feeling of happiness he had for Leslie just seconds before had been suddenly banished. He silently cursed his sister for making him focus on…_that!_ He went back to cleaning and getting ready for church without another look out the window. When the family left for church an hour later, Jesse nearly forgot Leslie's gift.

Mrs. Aarons drove ahead to church in the sedan with the girls while Jesse and his father stopped at the Burke's to pick up Leslie. No sooner had they pulled up than she ran out of the house, nearly slipping on the wet porch, and jumped down the four stares to the sidewalk, much to the horror of Mrs. Burke who was watching from the window.

"Hi Jess! Hi, Mr. Aarons," she exclaimed, standing at the open truck door. "My parents want to know if you would like to join us for lunch after church."

Jesse nearly declined, automatically, knowing his father would never accede to such a request, no matter how politely offered, at the last moment. When his father replied that it 'sounded like a good idea,' however, Jesse nearly fell out of the cab. Leslie waved to her mother and nodded, then climbed into the pick-up.

"Ready?" Mr. Aarons asked.

Both Jesse and Leslie said yes at the same time, and they were on the way.

The small Catholic Church was nearly filled when the Aarons family arrived, and they were there fifteen minutes early. On the drive over, Mr. Aarons mentioned how it had slipped his mind that the building would be packed for the Christmas service.

"Will it have more than last spring?" Leslie asked.

"Yes, a lot more. We went to the Easter day service, it's the vigil services that have the most people for Easter," Jesse's father explained. "On Christmas it usually the opposite: light vigil services and hordes on the day."

Leslie gave Jesse a confused look, and he couldn't blame her.

Seating was impossible for the later arrivals, so Mr. Aarons stood along the side of the building, next to the pews, with Jesse and Leslie, thankful that they were inside. The sky was clouding and the wind would chill the air temperature to well below freezing before long. Snow was predicted, but in the Appalachian foothills around Roanoke, the weather was always predictably unpredictable. They might get rain when the temperature was well below freezing or snow when the thermometer showed forty.

Feeling much like a sardine didn't bother Jesse too much when the service finally started. Leslie, standing in front of him, was occasionally jostled and pushed slightly backwards into his chest. He noticed, as he had been thinking earlier in the day, that it was a comforting feeling, having her that close. But they also had to stand through the entire service, including a long-winded sermon, and he found himself, at one point, nodding off. His father poked him warningly and he straightened up.

At the Lord's Prayer, Jesse took his father's hand, but before he could offer his other to Leslie, a stranger at the end of the pew she was standing next to offered hers. Jesse then spent the entire prayer developing less than Christian thoughts about the stranger. But as the prayer ended, the person turned to Leslie; it was Jesse's mother! They had been standing next to his family the entire time and hadn't noticed. He wondered why.

Then it was time for the Gesture of Peace and Jesse suddenly remembered everything he had been thinking earlier in the day. He felt his face flush; he knew it had to be scarlet, like he was burning up. A very brief reprieve of a few seconds was granted when his mother pulled Leslie into an embrace. _I wish I could do it that easily!_

Someone was poking him in the back.

Then Leslie turned and was standing face to face with him, smiling like she had at the Easter service – she wasn't quite sure what to do or say, either.

_Why didn't I go over this with her in the truck on the way here,_ he scolded himself.

She was still looking at him…and _someone_ was _still_ poking him in the back.

Suddenly he realized why! The priest was back up on the altar, ready to proceed.

_Time's up!_

This time the person behind Jesse didn't poke him, he pushed him, hard, right into Leslie where his choices were either hug her or knock her to the ground. He nearly did the latter.

Speaking the common verbiage for the simple Peace gesture only took a second, but Jesse held Leslie warmly, patting her back softly, not knowing what else to do. His friend whispered something in his ear as they embraced, but Jesse had no idea what she said. What he _was_ aware of was May pointing at him, and a hand on his shoulder.

"W-What did you say, Les?" he asked quietly.

"_Jess, let me go!_" she exclaimed a bit amusedly, but quietly, too, so that only the two of them could hear.

He looked around. _Everyone else is kneeling, and here I am, still hanging on my friend._ He let go, mumbling an apology, but Leslie was blushing and smiling and didn't seem to hear what he said. _I obviously traumatized her. How long was I like that? Communion? I must have done it for… She must think I'm crazy_! But then Jesse looked behind him and saw his father. _The hand that poked and pushed me!_ His father winked, and nodded towards the altar.

It was a Christmas service he would not soon forget, and he was quite certain others in his family would take great pleasure in reminding him if he did.

* * *

The Aarons filed into the Burke's house about forty minutes later, shedding boots, coats and hats which Leslie politely took to hang up to dry. Mr. and Mrs. Burke greeted their guests and led them into the dining room where everyone was invited to select drinks and snacks, and then they gathered in the large family room. Outside, everyone could see the snow was just starting to fall through the huge glass windows. The fireplace, blazing in comfortable warmth, was situated about a yard from the glass and radiated heat to the surrounding couches. Jesse had once told Leslie that this was his favorite room in her house. He repeated the declaration, sitting next to her at the far end of the sofa nearest the window, adding that the snow was the perfect backdrop for the warming interior.

As the Burkes spoke with their guests, Jesse noticed something about himself that he had not been consciously aware of before. He was content; truly, completely content. Sitting with his family, even Brenda and Ellie, and the Burkes (especially Leslie) there was a awareness of calm inside him. He thought, perhaps, it was just something that happened at his age, and he was partially correct. But to Jesse Aarons, this change was simply a non-understandable phenomenon of being almost twelve years old. He had no idea of the changes that were beginning to occur in his brain and body. At this point in his life he only observed the effect; the cause was irrelevant or unimportant. Neither did he understand, as had happened earlier in the day when he stood daydreaming of Leslie, how unpredictable his mind could be when a little too much of one hormone or another sent heretofore unfamiliar messages to his brain for action. He would discover, as he grew, how his empirical view of life and the world could be altered so dramatically by a single word or thought. Right now, however, such shifts in temperament and mood were simply beyond his comprehension.

"Let's go, Jess," Leslie whispered. "I want to give you your Christmas present." Her look seemed to say much more: _I want to give you your Christmas present without all these people around_. She stood and took his hand, leading him to the kitchen.

"Wait here," Leslie said, smiling brightly, running from the room to return shortly with a package wrapped in heavy brown paper, bound with twine. She set it on the island in the center of the kitchen, acting suddenly shy. Jesse stood on one side of the island, Leslie on the other.

Then something struck Jesse he hadn't noticed earlier in the day at church. _Of course_, he realized, _I couldn't have see it…_ Leslie was wearing a dress. He thought back over a year and couldn't recall ever having seen her dressed so smartly, not at all the tom-boyish friend he was used to. Her skirt came down almost to the knees; there was a thin belt around her waist. Her… upper body…! He suddenly realized where he was looking and his breath caught in a roar he was certain the entire house heard, but Leslie just remained still, smiling.

_I don't think Brenda's gift would have fit her._

"You're… wow, um, that looks, you know…um, nice…on you," Jesse blurted quietly, awkwardly, only half his face smiling as if the other half were being controlled by some aggravated creature interested in food, or using the toilet. In fact, he had not intended to say anything at all, but his mouth was just one of a number of parts of his body that were not operating as he would have liked. His eyes were another.

The comment awoke Leslie to her friend's sudden change and she stepped back, blushing more than ever. She wasn't sure if she said thank you.

Like her best friend, Leslie Burke was experiencing her own set of physical and mental changes. She had the advantage, however, of a year's head start on Jesse. She also had the advantage of parents who were more proactive and open about what these changes were. Not that she thought of the causes any more than Jesse might have, but she had the knowledge available if she needed access to it. Now, standing alone in the kitchen with Jesse, it was a heady feeling for her to see how much she affected him. It was frightening, too.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say, possibly for the second time, after a few seconds. Then added, "I like your new clothes." Jesse just nodded; he had moved little in the past minute.

"Are-Are you going to open my gift?" Leslie asked with a smile, "Or just stand there?"

"Oh, sorry…yeah," he answered in a voice that said he might rather just stand there looking at her, then he reached for the gift, untying the simple bow on the package and unfolding the heavy paper. It was…_they were_…books, about a dozen, of many shapes and sizes. Every one of them had to do with art, drawing and painting. Jesse picked up the top one with awe. It was about the Renaissance and the great painters who flourished at the time.

"Wow!" he said softly, running his hand over the scene from the Sistine Chapel on the book's cover. He repeated the same maneuver for the next four.

Then he came to _Drawing the Human Anatomy_, a larger soft cover with hundreds of pictures and sketches. He paged through it, admiring the realism and potential.

The next two were a series about landscape painting and perspective. He knew they would be the first he looked at.

The last three books were about color, lighting, subject material, surfaces, and just about everything else Jesse thought existed on art. When he looked up, Leslie had no doubt that he loved the gift. At the same time, Jesse was wondering if his gift was rather pathetic and puny. But he was feeling too good at that moment and refused to let himself get pulled down. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the book covered in slightly wrinkled wrapping.

"I…before you open it, Les," Jesse said frantically, as if trying to apologize, "I talked to your parents a few days ago and they said you hadn't actually read this book, and that they used to tell you stories about it. I started reading it after I bought it and it's amazing," he added somewhat guiltily.

Leslie smiled again and opened the paper. The book was _The Hobbit. _Jesse had the soaring sensation of a battle won when he heard Leslie say thank you. Then he looked on in barely disguised horror as she walked around the island and kissed him on the cheek. He could tell it was going to happen, and all he could do was watch her approach. But it wasn't as gross as he thought it could have been. Then something told him the proper response to the gesture was not to push her away, so he didn't, but awkwardly and haltingly put his arms around her and held her, thankful his arms were working properly at that moment.

* * *

Mrs. Burke chose the best time - or worst time - to enter the kitchen. If you were her daughter and had no desire to let go of your friend, it was the worst. If you were Jesse Aarons and feeling warmer than was comfortable, the separation was more welcome, at least for now. Either way, Leslie's mother nearly turned around and walked back out, but she thought better of it and cleared her throat, pressing forward.

"I see you two have exchanged gifts. We wondered where you had disappeared to." Then she winked at her daughter and in a mischievous voice added, "It looks like you both enjoyed the other's gift."

Leslie, who by this time had broken away from Jesse, balled up the torn wrapping paper and threw it at her mother playfully. Then she grabbed Jesse's hand and ran off towards the library. She wasn't certain why the library was her destination, but she was feeling rather rebellious, and not a little bit like she might want…

"Leslie, Jesse, why don't you come back… _now_, we're having lunch," Mrs. Burke 'suggested,' her face appearing in the doorway to the room, not two seconds after the kids had run in.

Leslie sighed, but held onto Jesse's hand and returned to the dining room. It had been reset with a variety of dishes and Jesse was perplexed as to how all the food was prepared without anybody coming in and out of the kitchen. He asked Mr. Burke, Leslie having been dragged off seconds before by her mother.

"This house has two kitchens, Jesse," he explained. "Maybe the previous owners entertained a lot and didn't like their kitchen to be messy when guests were around." He gave the universal sign for _I don't know_: elbows bent close to the body, palms up.

Just then, a wall panel that Jesse had always though was a solid wall, opened and out came Mrs. Burke followed by her rather disgruntled looking daughter. Jesse smiled at Leslie but she didn't return it.

Lunch was excellent, and except for a few snide comments from Brenda to her brother, and the baby spitting up in her mother's plate of food, all went well. Leslie and Mrs. Burke again appeared and disappeared, clearing the table and then asking the Aarons to return to the family room. But Mr. Aarons thanked their hosts and suggested that they should head back to their house to start preparing their own Christmas dinner. Then he did a very peculiar thing. He gave Ellie the sedan keys and told her to take the other three girls home. "We'll be there in a bit. Now git."

Following some short, curious protests, the four girls left and Mr. Aarons looked to his neighbor. "Ready Burke?"

"Ready, Aarons," Bill replied, and led the six of them back into the library where, Jesse noticed this time, five chairs were arranged in a semi-circular shape in front of Mr. Burke's desk. On top of the desk was a file envelope with thirty or forty sheets of paper in it. Also, Jesse saw, was a copy of Mr. Burke's manuscript for his latest book, the same one he had been working on over the summer: _One Plus One Equal Three_.

Although nothing had been said by any of the adults to Jesse, he had a queer feeling that he was the central player in the upcoming drama. He looked at Leslie and she just shrugged. His curiosity would soon be satisfied by Leslie's father.

"Jesse," he began in a very businesslike voice, and speaking quite rapidly. "Last month the girl who illustrated my first two books told me she would not be able to work on my next one." He patted the bulky pile of papers next to his right hand. "The final draft of the book goes to the editors next week and they are _not_ happy about me not having found a new illustrator. Funny thing, that is, since the contract states that _they_ were to supply names and samples of their work to me, not the other way around."

Jesse did not quite understand why Mr. Burke was going on about his book. He found it much more interesting that the man could talk so fast and not say something stupid.

"Do you know anything about my latest book, Jess? I didn't expect you to, but I thought Judy might have said something. Never mind. _One Plus One Equal Three_ is a collection of short fictional stories about different groups of friends spending their summer holidays at the beach. It has twelve chapters, twelve stories. I need two illustrations for each chapter, watercolor, pastel, oil, pencil, I don't care. Jesse, if you can put together a few roughs for me by the end of the holidays, and if I like them, and if the publishers like them, and if your parents like them… and a whole bunch of other ifs, you might have yourself a job."

Jesse was quite sure he had fallen asleep and was dreaming, but the people around him looked real enough, and Leslie was elbowing him rather painfully. However, when he thought of the words, _book_, _illustrator_, and _Jesse,_ they didn't sound correct together. "Are you sure you mean me, Mr. Burke?" Jesse asked in disbelief.

Leslie's father reached down beside his desk and brought up the painting he'd given Leslie for her birthday. Jesse was a little embarrassed to see it. "Jess, the publishers want a kid, meaning someone in their teens, to illustrate the book. It makes business sense and is a good selling point. I know you're a little young, but the author, _me_, carries a lot of weight in decisions like this. If I like the work, they will like the work. We're not looking for technical perfection; we're looking for exactly what you did here: symbolism and emotion."

Then he stopped talking.

"You're kidding, right?" Jesse asked. Leslie elbowed him a third time.

"Jesse, never start a negotiation with a joke like that." Mr. Burke was looking directly at him. At that moment, Jesse became certain the man was completely serious.

He turned to his parents. His mother was barely smiling and his father looked his usual unreadable self, but the fact that they were here, and had obviously already talked about this, meant they had some faith in him. He looked back across the desk. "Mr. Burke, will I be able to read the stories so I can have an idea what I'm going to do?"

Bill Burke smiled. "Of course. Read the first couple chapters tonight and get back to me in the morning." Seeing Jesse's mouth open he laughed. "Don't worry, it's pretty easy reading. Jess, I need to have close control over every step of this process. If you can't do it, or don't want to do it, I'm back at square one, so let me know. Any questions? Ok, you know where I am if something comes up. Now about your compensation…"

"I'm getting paid?" Jesse asked in clear disbelief.

"Of course. I suppose you wouldn't _have_ to be, but here's the contract rate we paid Melissa for each of the first two books." He withdrew a sheet of paper from the folder and pushed it across the desk for Jesse to see.

The boy's mouth opened and he looked a little pale. "Wow."

"Yes, 'wow' would be a good description. One last thing: This is a business proposition, and as much as possible we need to keep it that way. If you come over to talk about the illustrations, I don't want to find you chatting with my daughter. Keep the business and social stuff separate while you are here."

Dazed, Jesse just nodded. Then he made a connection to a concern he had earlier in the day, but he waited until his parents and he had left the Burkes before bringing it up.

His farewell that afternoon was short and oddly stifled. It was obvious that Mrs. Burke wanted to get Leslie back inside for something, presumably cleaning and preparing the evening meal. And while her goodbye was polite, he couldn't help but notice a distance in her gaze; he attributed it to Mr. Burke's admonition against mixing business with pleasure.

Walking to the pickup, Jesse asked his father if they could walk home and let his mother take the truck. His parents exchanged a surprised look but agreed; he left the manuscript on the passenger seat, and a minute later the father and son were walking.

"Dad, all the art supplies you got me for Christmas. Was it for this thing Mr. Burke asked me about?"

Mr. Aarons nodded before he spoke, confirming Jesse's suspicion. "Burke approached your mother and me about this a couple days ago. He's impressed with your talent and thinks you can do the job. Son, if he hadn't sold your mother and me on this, the proposal today never would have happened. We think you can do it, too. You have real talent, son."

Jesse saw that his father was evading the details of his question, and he wasn't sure why. What he was confident about was that he was going to win the job so he could pay back whomever it was that gave his parents the money.

When the father and son returned home a few minutes later, Jesse excused himself and went up to his room, Mr. Burke's manuscript in his hand along with his sketchpad and pencils. It wasn't until late that night when Jesse realized he wanted to talk to Leslie, but it was far past the hour to call. He stored his supplies, placed the unfinished book under his bed, and went to sleep.

* * *

"Bill, I know we've discussed this, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Why? It's unlikely Jess would be able to go to college any other way."

"There _are_ scholarships, Bill."

"But he has no way to pay for lessons. Jude, we've had this discussion, he's at least as good as Melissa, why the second thoughts?"

Instead of answering that question, Judy Burke brought up another. "We need to keep an eye on our daughter."

"Good grief, Jude, what is it now? What's she done?"

"I walked in on her and Jess in the kitchen, just before lunch..."

"So? Were they making out on the counter? Were they playing doctor?"

"Don't be crass, Bill." Judy snapped, and then paused to cool down. "No, they were just hugging."

"Fine. That sounds about normal to me. Were all hands accounted for?"

"_YES!_" _I think…_

"Then it sounds like they're doing fine. I don't recall you and me doing anything else, even at thirteen."

"_Jess isn't thirteen!_ And we weren't that much older when we…"

Bill cut off the comment and gave his wife a long-suffering look. "Would you like me to talk to her? I thought you had the birds-and-bees lecture already."

"I did. And my mother gave it to me, too. That didn't turn out so great, did it?"

"_Judy_, do you want me to talk to her?"

"No."

"Do you want me to withdraw my offer to Jess? I still can."

"No."

"Alright then. Short of restricting Leslie for something she hasn't done, I don't see what we _can_ do. But I _will_ pay closer attention to her, if it makes you feel better."

"Ok. Sorry." Judy was quiet for a minute, and then made her final comment of the evening. "It scares me, Bill, watching her grow up."

"It should scare you a lot more if you weren't watching."

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	9. Part 2: The Diary

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 9 – The Diary**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_**Leslie Anne Burke's Diary  
Born December 25, 2007**_

_**Tuesday, December 25, 2007  
**__Dear Diary (My parents say I'm supposed to start every entry like this),_

_There are two things I am certain of: I hate my mother and I love Jess Aarons. Everyone else is between these two people. Until further notice, my father is closer to the love side than the other. And God, if there is one, would fall somewhere in between. Mom says there is no God. Since I'm not real happy about some other things she's told me, like having a boy for a best friend being ok, I now have to admit that God's existence is less doubtful._

_Today went from wonderful to horrible in about two minutes. I went with Jesse's family to their Christmas services and he hugged me. I think his father had something to do with it, but since getting anything touchy out of Jess is impossible I would have to rate Mr. Aarons pretty highly. Anyway, then he forgot to let go, it was pretty funny. At my house later, (Mom and Dad, if you read this I'll hate you more) I kissed Jess, on the cheek. He looked a little sick as I approached so I didn't do it on his lips. I probably wasn't going to anyway._

_Then Mom walked in, cracking a joke, so I ran to the library with Jess. Still not sure why I did that, probably to kiss him again, even if he was still looking ill. Mom must have some sort of kissing radar because she came in and told us lunch was ready. That's when I decided I didn't like her too much. The hate stuff came later._

_I knew Dad was planning something for Jess with his book, Mom probably knew also but I don't feel like giving her credit for anything. He told Jess about needing illustrations and Jess said he would like to try it. This is where I started hating my mother. When the Aarons left I didn't have a chance to do anything but wave at Jess._ I hate my mother

_Then I got the lecture. Mom wouldn't say it directly, but she basically told me she didn't want Jess and me alone together._ I hate my mother_. She said Jess was too young and immature to be hugging me and holding my hand._ I hate my mother_. She tried to make it sound like something gross and sick._ I hate my mother_. She said no more kissing. Then she tried to be funny and added, "At least until you are 13."_ I hate my mother_. So here I am, Jess still hasn't kissed me, and it may be another 10 months before hawk-eye Judy lets him. Yes,_ I hate my mother.

_**Wednesday, December 26, 2007**__  
Dear Diary,_

_I hate my mother even more. Yesterday I didn't think it possible. I was wrong. The first thing she does this morning is wake me and tell me to pack b/c we're going to Aunt Joan's in Arlington for the rest of the week. I like Aunt Joan and Uncle Brian a lot, but I'd rather stay here._

_I called Jess to let him know I was leaving. That's when his sister moved up to #2 on my hate list – apparently, she didn't tell Jess I called. I'm pretty sure he would have called back if he got the message. But he didn't and 2 hours later we were stuck in traffic to Arlington. It's usually a 4 or 5-hour trip. Today it took almost 10. I didn't talk to Mom much but told her I was enjoying my new CD player, even though the batteries died out after a couple hours and I had to pretend to be listening to music._

_**Thursday, December 27, 2007**__  
Dear Diary,_

_When I woke up today I realized I still hate my mother._

_The twins are fun but take a lot of energy, that's probably why Aunt Joan is always sending them to me for playtime. Aunt Joan moved down my love/hate scale just a little. Mom still lingers at the bottom. But we ate at the Lost Dog Deli, my fave place in all of Virginia to eat, Jess would like it too but he's not here. Oh, and that reminds me, I hate my mother._

_**Friday, December 28, 2007  
**__Dear Diary,_

_I hate my mother._

_Aunt Joan took a nose-dive in my personal opinion meter today. I guess Mom told her about me and Jess being friends and she felt a need to support her sister. Since the house is hers, I was the one who had to take a walk to cool off._

_I felt sick all day today. Uncle Brian talked to me and said he heard I was in love and my mother was being unreasonable. Then he told me that's why I was sick. I think he's right. I miss Jess. That's what Uncle Brian says, at least. So today Uncle Brian is well into the love side of the scale. He also told me how hard it was to be a guy at Jess's age and that I should cut Mom some slack. He said she might not understand how I feel, but that she has been through it. When he said that, I asked him how she could know and he said I should talk to my parents. Uncle Brian drops a couple notches on the scale but gains one back for his strange comment about my mother. If I didn't hate my mother I might ask her what Uncle Brian is talking about._

_I cried today when I thought of Jess. That was strange. Usually I smile when I think of him. Maybe it's a hormone thing._

_Mom and Dad: If you are reading this I HATE BOTH OF YOU._

_**Saturday, December 29, 2007**__  
Dear Diary,_

_I swear, if Mom doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon I'll hitchhike home. I hate my mother._

_Aunt Joan said I need a haircut and told Mom she was taking me to the Hair Cuttery, my first trim since the accident. HA HA HA! A whole morning without Mom! It was almost enough to make the trip bearable. Aunt Joan asked me more about Jess and we talked about school, my violin lessons - which Jess doesn't know about (Jess, if you are reading this you're no longer my best friend, but I still like you.) At the haircut place, the entire staff had to see my scar and thought I'd had a brain transplant. They were all Asian and I told them it was true, (I kept a straight face and nodded seriously,) and that I used to be a psychopathic killer. They all laughed about it but kept giving me funny looks the rest of our time there. Aunt Joan said she nearly wet herself from laughing._

_Then we went to the bookstore and browsed around until Aunt Joan found me looking at books in the Relationships section. I think I traumatized my Aunt in the bookstore because her face was red and wouldn't tell me what an earoginis (sp?) zone was. Apparently it has nothing to do with my hearing. Then we had lunch._

_When we got back to the house Aunt Joan said something to my mother about the deal for swapping the kids being off. Overall my Aunt gets a couple plusses on the love scale for taking me out._

_But I still hate my mother._

_**Sunday, December 30, 2007  
**__Dear Diary,_

_She did it. My mother sunk to a new low today and we didn't leave for home until almost 2 in the afternoon. And it was too cold to hitchhike. Idiot me forgot to replace the batteries in my CD player and had to pretend to be listening to the Beatle all the way home. (If Mom thinks I'm listening to anything other than the Beatles I have to let her listen to the songs.) I hate my mother._

_Only a half hour or so to go. It's past 7 and almost all the snow is gone. Life stinks. But then again, I get to see Jess in a while. Mom said I can call him after I put my stuff away from the trip. Although Judy Burke's hate needle is at the bottom of the scale, it gave a slight twitch upwards. I think._

_WE'RE HOME!_

_

* * *

Jesse Aarons' experiences for the week after Christmas were very different from his friend's. Over Christmas night, a deep snow had blanketed southwestern Virginia and the Roanoke Valley. The ski resorts operated happily at full capacity and the many independent plowing services, usually a single family-owned pickup, enjoyed the brisk business and extra cash the weather made possible. In an economically depressed region, industrious, hard-working Americans were finding ways to press on and survive. Sometime they even thrived._

When younger, Jesse rode in the cab of his father's pickup as they went from house to house offering to plow the snow for ten or twenty dollars. Jesse senior would drive to a street in the better part of town, hand his son a small laminated price list, and he would run up to the door to solicit a job. It did not take long, even at only ten dollars a pop, to rack up a healthy sum, returning home with a bed full of half-frozen groceries and a wad of cash. Through these actions, Jack Aarons had, in just a few seasons, earned a reputation as a fast, efficient, and thorough worker. Some customers asked why he didn't go into business. The rough-cut man would thank them for their commendation and remind the customer that it only snowed two or three months a year. With a respectful nod, he took the fee – always cash – and set off for the next promising location while his son counted the money and stored it in an old cigar box under the seat.

This was one of the happy memories Jesse looked back upon as his eleventh Christmas season progressed. When his father took the job in Northern Virginia a few years back, the plowing business – and the extra cash – all ended. _Would it restart again?_ He was sorely tempted to ask his father. _Would he be proud of me if I suggested restarting the job? Would he even care if I wanted to go out and plow a few more driveways for old time's sake?_ A million questions swirled around inside Jesse Aarons' mind that snowy morning, and that was before he started thinking of his best friend.

Something caught in his chest when his mind turned to Leslie. Again. _It was like a caged animal_, Jesse realized, _growling to escape_. Right now, today, he was frightened enough by the unknown monster – beast – ogre, whatever it was, to keep it chained tightly, and smother, even suffocate it! _Don't let it out, at least not yet._ It did little good, he realized, even as the growls turned into a dull ache. _If I can figure out what it is, maybe I can tame it, or harness it_… Jesse didn't yet realize that he could no sooner stop the beast's ever increasing rampages than he could grow shorter. At best, he might distract it. But eventually, in months or a few years at the most, he would find the truth.

Waking on December 26th, seeing the snow and feeling the Christmas spirit, looking forward to trying his new paints, pastels, and pencils, Jesse again felt a contentment long missing from his life. It wasn't the same one he had felt the day before, sitting with Leslie and their families, watching the snow start and listening to the fire crackle and pop. It was, he knew, the contentment of security, not having to worry about _his_ parents and their worries for the first time in years.

He rolled over, reaching under the bed for Mr. Burke's manuscript, and pulled it onto his lap. He had, as his sponsor predicted, finished the first two chapters easily the night before. They were interesting stories, he discovered, views into interpersonal relationship, though to Jesse they were also a little strange: teens – he still considered being a teenager years off – trying to find themselves with the distractions of the world blasting away at them. They were also, undoubtedly, the works of Leslie's father; she and he both spoke through the words, one a participant the other an omniscient and mysterious deity known as a narrator. Of course, there was no single character in either story that was Leslie Burke, but clearly the central character in the first story, Jamie Bickers, shared the mannerisms of Jesse's best friend. He saw in the author's words how Jamie would playfully punch someone, lean against them if she wanted an honest answer; take their hand for comfort or contentment. But Jamie was also sixteen and insecure, neglected by her parents, left to fend for herself in a tough environment. Jesse wondered if Mr. Burke was, through his fiction, secretly working out strategies for his daughter. _No_, he concluded, _you can't mix our Leslie with Jamie's insecurity and neglectful parents, it's too far-fetched_. The first story ended with Jamie running into an old grammar school friend who helps her get out of the unhealthy situation. He came away from the story feeling pretty good about the main character's future.

Then Jesse closed his eyes and again went through the story in his mind. Having spent time at the beach was enormously helpful. He'd seen how teens Jamie's age interacted. He had, now and then, been able to pick out the ones who were having problems mingling with their peers. Taking the participants described in the story, perhaps a dozen characters, Jesse could see them interact - and even focus into a couple to hear a conversation. It was an altogether otherworldly experience, as if he was running a video tape of everything happening and could zoom in on whatever he was interested in. Next he saw two Jamies, one from the start of the story and one at the end, as mirror images: identical on the outside but going in opposite directions. _Sand?_ The metaphor of sand came into Jesse's mind – _beaches and sand dunes_ – and how they are shaped by wind and water. _Pushed, blown, and swept away_ - even their shape changed - _but they remained, adapted to the environment and cleverly survive by their very nature_. Finally, a picture formed of a shy girl running eagerly over a dune to join her friends; blown sand following her towards the ocean. Then a second picture, the same girl walking away, atop a dune, again being followed by the blowing sand, this time looking towards her new life.

Jesse opened his eyes and reached for his pad, prepared to sketch the first two illustrations. Even before he drew the first line he knew it would be pencil; nothing could show the finer points of detail, the symbolism of wind and sand, in the small space he had to use. When he was done, he heaved a sigh of relief. Then he began to doubt his work. _Was it too simple? Was it to amateurish? What in God's name was I thinking when I said I would try for the commission?_

Hungry, Jesse looked at his clock and saw it was only mid-morning. He threw on a robe and ran down to get breakfast. His mother was playing with Mary, encouraging her to walk, and using Cheerios as an incentive. They chatted for a few minutes. Jesse explained his first thoughts about the illustrations, happily hearing his mother ask if she could look at the drafts. When he brought them down a few minutes later she sounded impressed and asked a few questions.

"I like them," Mary Aarons said confidently, "Why don't you show them to Mr. Burke?"

"I want to do the second story before going over," he explained, tickling Joyce Ann and running back upstairs.

The rest of the morning passed as Jesse reviewed the second chapter and thought through various ideas for the illustrations. But chapter two was far more complicated and involved, and it included a drowning death that cast a morbid shroud over the latter half of the story. Still, when Jesse lay on his bed and closed his eyes, the inspiration he sought appeared and fed off the tragedy of the story and how it affected the character's lives. He found the images and symbols he needed surprisingly colorful and decided to use a muted pastel background with penciled-in highlights. A simple sandcastle –_ its creation, destruction and recreation_ – instantly struck him as the allegorical centerpiece.

When Jesse came downstairs again he was shocked to see it was mid-afternoon. Joyce Ann was asleep in her crib and his other sisters were snacking at the table.

"Jess, your girlfriend called," Brenda said with a bite of sarcasm.

For some reason, with the way he felt that day, the snide delivery of the message didn't bother him. He went to the phone to return the call and share with Leslie his progress.

"Don't bother, _Picasso_, she's not there," Ellie said.

"_What? Why?"_

"She's gone. Called to say goodbye, I'm sure." This time both teens laughed.

"When did she call?" Jesse demanded hotly.

"A couple hours ago. We would have told you sooner but we didn't want to interrupt your _creative genius_." Ellie and Brenda took the bag of crisps from the table and ran upstairs, snickering the entire way.

_They did it again_, Jesse realized. _Took a perfectly good day and threw a wrench into it_. But in spite of his aggravation, Jesse called the Burke's number. Leslie's father answered and Jesse asked if he could bring over his first sketches. A few minutes later, bundled against the wind and blowing snow, Jesse walked the snow-covered road with his sketchpad safely protected in plastic wrap and held securely inside his coat.

To his immense relief, Mr. Burke found his drafts completely acceptable and especially praised the sandcastle symbolism. He offered a few minor recommendations and asked him to bring back the touched-up drafts with the color additions and then he would send them to his publishers for their consideration. When they had finished, Jesse asked when Leslie would be back. Her father removed his glasses and asked him to sit.

"Jesse, Mrs. Burke took Les up to Arlington for a few days to visit with her relatives." Seeing Jesse's face fall he added, "She tried calling earlier."

"I didn't get the message," Jesse said sourly.

"Let me guess…Brenda or Ellie?"

"Both."

"I'm sorry, Jess. They'll be back Sunday."

Jesse was sure he was imagining it, but Mr. Burke almost looked guilty. Gathering his work, he left without another word.

Later that evening, after adding the finishing touches to the four illustrations, he brought them down to show his parents. His father had returned from plowing an hour earlier in a good mood and both he and Mrs. Aarons took time to look at the four images and listen to the story behind them. They also narrowly avoid disaster when Joyce Ann vomited her dinner onto the table just inches from two of the pieces.

With his parents' approval, Jesse again bundled up the drawings and carried them over to the Burke's where Leslie's father waved him in from the kitchen window. He was speaking on the phone. Showing the package, Jesse set it on Mr. Burke's desk and headed back out, waving goodbye.

Over the next few days, Jesse read most of the remaining ten stories from the book and jotted down some ideas for the illustrations. Of all the likely events of the week, possibly the oddest was his lack of interaction with most of his family. He would see them when doing his chores and at meals, but he felt part of a self-imposed isolation. Even May left him alone when he was reading and sketching.

Mid-morning Saturday, Jesse received a call from Mr. Burke asking that he and either or both his parents come by at one o'clock. He had heard from the publishers and wanted to speak with them. Both excited and fearful, Jesse passed on the message to his parents who were sitting at the table; both agreed that they could make the meeting. From that point on the minutes turned into hours and the only thing Jesse could do to keep from going crazy was busy himself with his chores, and even some of those of his siblings. None appeared too upset with his offer. As one o'clock approached, Jesse and his parents prepared to head out. Much of the snow had melted, leaving the drive a messy, muddy lane so they drove the quarter mile to the Aaron's house.

"Ok," Bill Burke said when they were all seated, "here's what the publishers say. They like the chapter two illustrations. In fact, they like them a lot." Jesse felt a wave of relief come over him, "But they don't like the ones for chapter one." Jesse exhaled, his ego suddenly deflating.

"Did they say why?" Mary Aarons asked.

"Yes, I'll get to that in a minute. I have some other news, too." When Jesse heard the tone in Mr. Burke's voice, he knew it was bad news. "Jess was not offered the contract. They cited age as the chief reason. I'm sorry, Jess."

Stunned, Jesse looked to his parents but they appeared as upset as he, even his father. But Mr. Burke continued. "This isn't a total loss. The publishers have offered to purchase the two illustrations and made a generous offer."

"What? They don't like them but they want them?"

"Yes, the two pastels of the sandcastle." Mr. Burke took a paper from the same folder Jesse had seen on Christmas day and handed it to him. "I'm sorry, Jesse. I pushed hard for your work but…well, it just didn't happen. If you accept their offer for the two illustrations I can have a check for you in a couple days."

Numb, Jesse looked over the written offer and then turned to his parents, handing them the sheet. "Will this cover all the supplies you bought?"

"Yes, Jesse," his mother replied first, "it's more than enough." Although Mrs. Aarons was smiling, Jesse suspected it was an empty smile. But when he looked to his father, his spirits were bolstered, his father gave him a look that said he was proud of his son.

"Jess, the money is yours to do with as you like. But let me offer you some advice: take whatever you can and spend it on drawing lessons. The biggest reason the first set of illustrations were rejected was, and I quote, 'inadequate experience/technique with human figures.' In other words, you have to work on drawing the human anatomy." Standing, Mr. Burke offered Jesse's father a pen. "Mr. Aarons, Mrs. Aarons, since Jesse is a minor I'll need your signature if you want to go ahead with the sale. Be sure to read the agreement, by signing it you are essentially giving my publishers, Taylor & Hunter, all rights to the artwork. Your son's name will be on it, but you won't own the originals. You can't even give a copy to someone without permission, though you could paint a duplicate, I suppose."

Taking the pen, Mr. Aarons nodded to Leslie's father and sat. "Jess, I…your mother and I are sorry you didn't get the contract, but we're proud of you. What do you think of Burke's…Mr. Burke's suggestion?"

Fighting off his sinking feeling of failure, Jesse nodded. "Yeah, it's a good idea."

"Ok," Mr. Aarons said, signing and then handing his wife the pen. When she finished and handed over the agreement they all rose, shook hands, and went their way.

* * *

The remainder of Saturday and most of Sunday passed dreadfully slow for Jesse. On the one hand, he was delighted to be able to pay for all the supplies his parents had purchased and still have a good amount remaining for drawing lessons. On the other hand, the failure to win the contract weighed heavily on his spirits. Both parents offered their son further praise and he made an effort to act happier than he felt, but until the phone rang near eight Sunday evening, Jesse was just going through the motions of having a tolerable holiday.

He was first to the ringing telephone. "Hello."

"Jess! Hi, it's me…Leslie."

"Oh, hey, Leslie," Jesse replied dully.

"What's wrong?"

"You father didn't tell you?"

"No, tell me what?"

"I didn't get the contract."

"_NO!_" May could hear the exclamation from across the room.

"_JEEZ, Leslie, my ear!_"

"Sorry… What happened?"

"The publisher didn't like them. They did buy one set so I'll have some money to take lessons and stuff."

"That's great! But I'm sorry you didn't get it. Hey, wanna come over…wait. Can I come over there?"

"Sure."

"Hang on; Mom says you'll have to come over here. Want me to meet you? _NOW WHAT?_ Sorry, Jess, I can't meet you."

"S'ok. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Ok! Bye!"

"Yeah."

Jesse walked down the long dark drive to the Burke's house with mixed eagerness and apprehension. There was clearly something in Leslie's voice that made him wary, and the way she changed the plans around on the phone was odd, too. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he rang the doorbell and waited. Mrs. Burke answered; she looked tired.

"Hi, Jesse, come in."

"Hi, Mrs. Burke, welcome back."

"Thank you. Les is in the living room."

Jess was greeted cheerfully by Mr. Burke as he entered the room. "Hi, Jess. Haven't seen you in a while."

"I saw you yesterday, Mr. Burke," Jesse responded warily.

"I know, Jess, I was kidding."

"Oh, ok." Turning to his right, Jesse saw Leslie sitting with her mother, she had moved to the love seat during his brief words with Mr. Burke. Leslie didn't look as happy to see him as she had sounded on the phone. She was a little dressed up, he thought, and was nervously tapping a black book in her lap with a pen. The noise appeared to be irritating her mother. Jesse thought she was doing it on purpose.

In fact, he found the entire arrangement of bodies in the room very odd. Mr. or Mrs. Burke had always made room for him on a sofa or love seat next to their daughter. But not this evening. In fact, he felt rather unwanted as he sat nervously, alone on the large sofa. "Hi, Leslie, have a nice trip?" he ventured.

"Yeah, it was nice," she replied stiffly. Her mother frowned at her.

The next half-hour was as awkward as Jesse or Leslie had ever spent with the other. When it appeared Leslie would start crying from embarrassment her father rose and took his wife's hand, pulling her up and out of the room. The kids moved a little closer together.

"That was strange. Did I do something?" Jesse asked as soon as he saw they were alone.

Leslie laughed, but when she saw Jesse was uncomfortable, she stopped and moved over next to him. "Jess, Mom's just concerned about me…and you."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing, actually. It was what I did," Leslie answered in frustration, and intentionally remaining vague.

This puzzled Jesse for a moment until he remembered the last time he'd seen her. "You mean Christmas?"

Leslie nodded. "She freaked out seeing us hugging."

Jesse turned a rather bright shade of pink. "Oh, that's what it's all about."

"Yep, that's what all that was about. Don't worry, it'll work out over time," Leslie told him with more confidence than she felt.

Jesse smiled. "I'm glad we can still, uh, you know, do stuff together."

Leslie smiled more. "Me, too."

The two friends spent the next hour talking about what they had done, Leslie with her undesired trip and Jesse with his drawings. Jesse shared his success in using his imagination to help create his illustrations and this seemed to please his friend greatly. At one point Leslie remarked how serious she thought Jesse looked and tried to tickle him to make him smile more. Their innocent play and laughter relieved both of tension. Even when Jesse ended up sitting atop her and making her say "Uncle" in surrender, Leslie had forgotten her earlier desires; Jesse had reverted back to being her best friend. She was reminded of fifth grade when their friendship was new; her more recent and profound feelings again safely buried.

After laughing themselves silly at some new jokes both had heard, Leslie from her cousins and Jesse from overhearing his sisters, both lay on the large Persian carpet, side-by-side but facing opposite directions, silent, not understanding the comfort they were providing each other solely by their presence. Their left hands touched tentatively, but ending with fingers entwined.

At nine o'clock, the dining room clock chimed and Jesse knew he had to head home. He helped his friend up but suddenly felt dizzy, like when rising from a night's sleep too rapidly. He swayed for a couple seconds and collapsed on the couch.

"Jess, what's wrong? Are you…" She didn't have a chance to finish the question. Jesse cried out in pain, rolled off the couch and back onto the floor.

Almost immediately, Mr. Burke was in the room. _Too quickly_, Leslie realized, but ignored it for the time being, pointing to Jesse. "He just fell."

"Ok, Les. Please go get your mother and have her call Jess's parents." But she froze for a moment, watching Jesse writhing in pain, holding his head. Mr. Burke again told her to go and she ran off to find her mother.

While they were alone, Mr. Burke tried to talk to Jesse but could tell he was unable to hear or understand any questions posed. He tried to hold the boy and calm him but only succeeded in receiving a cut lip when Jesse's flailing arms struck his face. A minute later, Mrs. Burke and Leslie returned saying they had placed the call to Jesse's house. "_Should we call 911, Daddy?_" Leslie asked in a barely controlled voice.

"I don't think so, at least not yet. He's breathing normally, and he seems to be a little better. We'll wait for his parents. Les, why don't you wait at the door and let them in." Reluctantly she backed away and did as was asked.

Mr. and Mrs. Aarons arrived three minutes later and Leslie took them to the living room. Jesse was sitting up now, but he looked ill and his face was grey. One hand was over his eyes. Leslie explained how the attack had started and her father filled Jesse's parents in on the slow improvement.

"Jess, how is it now?" his mother asked.

"Hurts, but I don't feel like throwing up any more." Mr. Burke moved his left foot back a few inches. "Bright lights."

"Lights?" Mr. Aarons asked. "What do you mean, son?"

"He might be having migraines," Mrs. Burke told Jesse's parents, coming back into the room with a cool cloth for the boy's head. "Often they're accompanied by flashes of light as well as severe head pain," The coolness seemed to help immediately and everyone could see him relax. In the background, Leslie had her fist in her mouth to suppress her fear and desire to cry.

Judy Burke left the room again, returning a minute later with an automatic blood pressure machine. She slipped it on Jesse's arm and started the machine. It whirred for about ten seconds, filling the cuff with air and then slowly began to release the pressure. When it finished it showed blood pressure and heart rate.

"That's good," Judy Burke said with relief. "Mary, I think he can go home, unless you want to go to the emergency room. His BP is normal so there doesn't appear to be any danger. Try getting some pain reliever in him, but his stomach might reject Motrin."

By now, Jesse was feeling as if he had been hit over the head with an iron skillet, but it was much better than it was only a few minutes earlier. With help, he got to his feet, waved goodbye to Leslie, who was still standing in the background, frightened, and went home to bed.

Following the Aarons' departure, Leslie's parent calmed her down and sent her off to bed. A short time later they sat in the living room, both still a little shell-shocked by the events of the past half hour.

"Judy, he said it again," Bill Burke told his wife. It was the first time that evening he looked worried, she noticed.

"Said what?"

"About Leslie, '_Can she go with us?_' or something like that."

Judy understood. "You think we should tell Mary and Jack?" Her tone said she thought so, but also that she was not interested in being the one to break the news.

"I'm not sure. It could be anything or nothing. You might want to mention to Mary that you studied medicine so she…or they, know that you know what you're talking about."

Judy Burke laughed. "That was a long time ago, Bill, and there's a good reason why I didn't continue past second year of pre-med. I'm not a doctor," she stated plainly, seeing the look her husband was giving her.

The couple sat quietly for quite a while. Judy knew that her husband wanted to say something by the way he would turn towards her, pause, and then turn back away. It was always a signal he wanted to talk.

"What is it, Bill?"

"That obvious, eh?" Both laughed. "Jude, I think you, or we, should tell Leslie about what happened with us. It might help her understand you better; she has been damn angry with you since you two got back."

"She's been that way all week." Judy paused to see the look on her husband's face.

"Why are you letting her…"

"I'm not 'letting her,' Bill, I just don't know how to tell her." Looking away, Judy tried to hide her tears. But her husband knew her too well.

"Even after all this time it still bothers you?" She nodded silently. "Ok, sorry I mentioned it."

"No, no, it's ok. You might not know this," she blew her nose again. "I think of it all the time. _EVERY DAY!_" Bill _didn't_ know this. "How can I expect Leslie to think I'm qualified to lecture her when I did what I'm telling her not to do? She'll call me a hypocrite, and she'd be right."

"That's not true, Jude, and you know it. Being a parent is a far cry from being a thirteen year old."

"She won't see it that way, Bill, and you know it. She's too smart."

Again they fell into silence, more thoughtful this time, as both remembered a time when they were about their daughter's age and did some very foolish things.

* * *

He woke long before dawn the next morning to May's frantic cries. Still feeling ill and headachy, not surprising given the events of the previous night, Jesse sat straight up and asked his young sister what the problem was.

"You, Jess! You were crying for Leslie again." The fear in her face was deeply disturbing.

"For Leslie? What do you mean?"

"You were calling for her to stop…like…like when she got hurt, and you cried and wouldn't stop." May threw herself into her brother's arm and cried piteously until his caring caresses on her head and pats on her back soothed her.

"May, have I done this before?"

She nodded silently on his chest and held him all the tighter.

"It's alright, May. I'm ok, Leslie's ok, you're ok."

"But you said she was dead, you scared me. Are you sure she's ok?"

"I'm sure. I saw her last night and she was fine." Jesse paused, waiting for May to calm down more. "May, how often do I wake you up?"

She pulled away and stood next to Jesse's bed, guilt on her face. "A lot."

"'A lot'? How much is 'a lot'?"

"Once or twice a month, I guess. Don't you know?"

He didn't, and he was shocked by the answer. The next thing he thought about was whether there was a correlation between these nightmares he couldn't remember and the strange phrase he would hear every few weeks: _Can Leslie come with us?_ He didn't see one, but he would not rule it out, either.

"Yeah, May, I was just wondering how many times. I think I'll be ok, now."

The girl gave him a dubious look and then said something he would have never expected, "Jesse, can I stay with you, in your bed?" And even though she didn't say the words, they were clearly part of her statement: I'm scared.

"Sure, May, climb on in."

Jesse spent the next few minutes trying to get comfortable. Finally May fell asleep with his arm around her and her head on his chest. It was not long before Jesse was asleep, too. A few hours later he awoke and was happy to see his sister had returned to her bed and was sleeping peacefully. On his side he watched May and felt a deep thrill of happiness and affection for his sister.

At seven in the morning, Jesse rose quietly, still feeling a little achy and lightheaded. It cleared quickly, however, as he sat up and the dim morning light coming through the window adjusted his eyes and body to the new day. More confident and steady, Jesse walked to the bathroom to relieve himself. By the time he was back in his room, he felt fine. In fact, he felt great. He decided to go downstairs, so as to not awaken May, and read Mr. Burke's final story. A half-hour later, still absently massaging his temples, he was distracted from reading by the unexpected interest in redrawing the illustrations from the first story, the ones rejected by the publishers. Attributing the sudden craving to a wish for personal satisfaction and redemption, he fetched the sketchpad and went to work. The redrawing took less than an hour, and he looked on it with great satisfaction.

There was a single large, and many subtle, differences in the sketch he had just produced. His drawing was larger, and in creating it this way he was able to add details that were impossible the first time. Why didn't I think of that? It would be simple for any company to shrink this! And he knew it was much, much better than the earlier one and his rendition of Jamie seemed to jump out at him, alive, real, and human. But more than the girl's form, and the background setting, and the foreground details, the picture was alive in its entirety. When Jesse looked at it, the image was animated within his mind, so much so that he could see where Jamie was and where she was going. It was, he mused to himself, almost like the Wizarding photographs he'd heard about in the books. Of course it wasn't actually moving, it just gave the viewer that impression.

Jesse had a sudden urge to show the illustration to Leslie. He ran upstairs and dressed, brushed his teeth, and ran out the door, the pad in one hand and his winter coat in the other; he managed to get it completely on and zipped just as he reached the Burke house. Stopping for a moment, he made sure the kitchen light was on and that someone was up and about. Through the lace curtains he could see at least two people moving around. He ran up the steps and knocked on the door quietly, in case the third resident was still asleep.

"Good grief, Jess," Mr. Burke greeted him, wearing his pajamas and slippers, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand. "What are you up to this early? Are you feeling ok this morning?"

It really wasn't that early, nearly nine, but Jesse didn't think more about it. "Yes, much better, thanks. Mr. Burke, would it be ok if I showed something to Leslie…if she's up?"

"Of course, she's right here…" He made to invite the guest in when Leslie's face appeared around the edge of the door.

"Jess! What are you doing here? Never mind." She vanished and he heard her running off and up the stairs.

"Come in, Jess. Coffee, or, uh, coco?"

"Thanks, Mr. Burke, no. I'm just going to be a minute."

"Right, well, come in the kitchen, Les will be back shortly, I'm sure." They sat together at the oval kitchen table. Jesse set his sketchpad in his lap protectively. "Can I be nosey? Another picture?" Mr. Burke asked lightly, pretending to steal a look in Jesse's lap.

"Yeah, well, no, it's the same one I did the other day, for the first story. I just thought I did a better job this time and…oh, here, you can look at it." Picking the pad up from his lap, Jesse placed it on the table and opened it to the new picture just as Leslie returned. She was wearing sweats for pants, slippers, and what looked like an old t-shirt of her father's. She also had pulled her hair back into a pony tail, something she hadn't been able to do for a long time, and finished off her outfit with a green and white headband. She looked ready to lift weights or run track.

While Jesse was appraising his friend's unusual attire, he didn't notice Mr. Burke's face, it had gone red and his jaw was clenched. He looked furious. At the same time, Leslie was looking at the picture and Jesse did see her expression and was completely confused.

"What's wrong, Leslie?" he asked with complete innocence.

"Jess, I…where did you get that?" She glanced at her father and saw the disbelief in his face.

"What do you mean? I drew it this morning. Is it that bad?"

"Bad? Are you kidding?_ It's unbelievable_." Leslie sat next to Jesse and turned the pad so she could see the picture straight on. That was when Jesse saw Mr. Burke.

"Did I do something wrong? I thought it was better than the first. M-Maybe I should go."

The past minute had been such a complete letdown; Jesse even felt his eyes beginning to water a little. He slapped the pad closed, pulling it roughly from Leslie's hands, and made to pick it up, but Mr. Burke clamped his hand on Jesse's wrist.

"Wait, Jesse. Would you do me a favor?"

He didn't feel like it, but nodded yes.

"Draw me another picture." He turned and grabbed a hand full of ordinary yellow #2 pencils and set them on the table. "Please, Jess, just something simple."

Then he realized, _They don't think I drew it!_ This was so completely disheartening that he couldn't think of anything to draw. As he sat, appearing unable to do anything, he saw Mr. Burke's face fall.

Then he looked to Leslie and saw her eyes watching him.

"Don't move," he said to his friend. And she didn't.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Jesse drew as perfect a likeness of his best friend's eyes and face, between her hairline and the tip of her nose, as he had ever drawn, or could ever draw. Even before he finished, he felt Mr. Burke's hand on he left arm, stopping him.

"Jess Aarons, I owe you an apology," he said sincerely, shaking his head. "I couldn't believe you had drawn something so amazing as that first picture until I saw you do this. _My God!_ And I hear eyes are the hardest part of the body to draw." He gently took the nearly complete picture from Jesse and held it up to his daughter. "I have to ask you, Jess, why didn't you give me that other picture to submit? _My God!_"

Leslie was startled to hear her father's expression, it was almost never used.

"I just felt better this morning while drawing it, I guess." The fact was he really didn't know how he'd done so much better either.

"I guess you did!" he added with a little chuckle. "Really, Jess, I'm sorry for doubting you. Your pictures look like you've had about twenty years of lessons."

* * *

In the confines of his own private Hell, thirty-year-old Jesse Aarons dwelt in the silence of thought, waiting for another event to register in his mind. The only significant thing he had been able to learn about his existence, since his death, was that his memory was intact. There was no discomfort, as he had no body to feel with, but there was an anxiousness of mind that left him curious about who, what, and where he was.

* * *

_**Monday, December 31, 2007  
**__Dear Diary,_

_I don't know what I should write about today. Jesse's drawings? I can't even describe what they are like. Mom and Dad won't even talk about them with me. Dad called Mr. Aarons today about something, and then he went to Jess's house for a few minutes but won't tell me anything. It's probably about Jess, but I don't know._

_Jess and I were actually able to go out on our own today, after the morning excitement. It felt so good to be with him and not have my parents hovering over us. We ran a couple miles down Route 11 to the edge of Weedem and stopped in the store for ice cream. Jesse bought it for me with the money he earned from the illustrations. He insisted, saying if it wasn't for knowing me he never would have had the chance._

_On the way back all I could think about was how to deal with Scott Hoager next week. I have a feeling the way I want to deal with it isn't going to be the same way Jess wants to deal with it._

_It's almost midnight, 2008 is three minutes away. I don't hate my mother right now, but I reserve the right to change my feelings._

_I still love Jesse Aarons._

_Good bye, 2007. And please, 2008, no more accidents._

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	10. Part 2: The Agreements

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 10 – The Agreements**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

As with all holidays, the Christmas of 2007 passed far too quickly. Before Jesse and Leslie knew it, they were again standing with May waiting for the school bus to arrive. The excitement of the Yule snowstorm had given hope that early January would provide for them a blizzard, or at least a strong winter zephyr, to delay their return to classes a few more days, but it wasn't to be. Monday morning dawned grey, dreary, cold, and rainy their first day back to school. With small rivulets of water pouring from their rain gear to the muddy ground, the three lonely souls had few cheerful words for each other.

Jesse and May carried their usual backpacks, but they were hidden under new slickers; their boots kept their new trainers out of the mud and muck. Jesse also carried, very self consciously, a medium sized portfolio under his arm. It contained his newest drawings, six in all, which he was bringing to the school art teacher for appraisal. Leslie, nearly invisible under her own rain gear except for the collar of her shirt and some sort of beaded things dangling below the bottom of her coat, stood pondering the approaching bus.

"Better move back some, May. If the bus hits that puddle," Leslie pointed to an enormous pothole in the road, "we'll be drenched."

"You mean we aren't drenched, Leslie," May asked, smiling in spite of the cold.

"Yeah, no kidding… So, May _Belle_," Leslie teased the girl, receiving a frown in return, "what can I get you for your birthday party next week? With all these new clothes you don't need anything."

"Barbies!" May and her brother cried out together as the bus stopped.

Laughing, the three children boarded the bus. May found her best friend from down the road and plopped into the seat next to her. Jesse and Leslie took up their usual spot and watched the center isle of the yellow bus where more streams of water flowed back and forth as they started and stopped.

"Ready?" Leslie asked as they approached the final street before school.

"I guess. You?"

"Ready, Captain Underpants."

"_Please_, Les!"

"Ok. How about _CU_?" The suggestion returned an evil look. "Now, for Scott, what are you going to do if he starts teasing again?"

Jesse turned away. "Punch him."

"_JESS!_ Come on, really."

"Yeah, _really_, I'll punch him," he repeated.

"That's not what you promised me," Leslie griped. Then she thumped his arm.

"Hey! That's my precious drawing arm."

"Then tell me what you're going to do, or I'll hit it again." She held her fist up dramatically and they both laughed.

"Yes, ma'am. First I'll ignore him, next I'll give him a withering look… then I'll punch him." His friend didn't smile.

Jesse repeated the mantra: "First I'll ignore him, next I'll give him a withering look, then I'll state loudly, but not disruptively: 'I'm trying to work, Hoager, please be quiet.'"

"And…?"

"And if all that doesn't work I'll change seats." This last idea of Leslie's was not his favorite. Besides wanting to punch the bully, Jesse could not convince Leslie that changing seats wouldn't help since they were not allowed to do it anyway.

"Good. Remember, don't let him get to you. And I'll be there, too," she said confidently, as if her presence would fix everything. Jesse snorted sarcastically, to which his friend replied, "You want to try my plan?"

"_NO!_" Jesse exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically.

Leslie pouted. "Thanks a lot."

"C'mon, Les, you know what I mean."

"Ok, ok. Only as a last resort." _Dang!_

By the time they reached school, the rain had nearly stopped. The children exited the bus and headed their separate ways, May waving goodbye to her brother and friend. "So far, so good," Jesse whispered. None of the usual crown of bullies had braved the rain to make the first day back of 2008 a nightmare.

"Right. But now comes the real test."

The hallways leading to all the classrooms were a mess of mud and water, and a few papers had found their way to the floor. In homeroom, the cloak closet was filled with dripping garments. Above all, there was the smell of wet children presenting various stages of good (or bad) hygiene. As Jesse and Leslie sat, both noticed Scott Hoager's seat was empty and they shared an encouraged look.

"Maybe he transferred!" Jesse said hopefully.

"Maybe he broke his jaw and can't talk for a month!" Leslie added, giggling. They gave each other a high-five.

"I should have known the first thing I'd see is you two touching each other," said a voice just outside the door. A few of the kids in the room snickered.

"Just ignore him, Jess," Leslie said quietly.

"I'm ignoring, I'm ignoring," Jesse repeated. Then he looked up and smiled. Scott Hoager was limping into the room with a three-quarter length cast on his left leg and an oddly sewn pair of trousers, the right leg full-length and the left leg short. As he was thinking of something to say, Leslie beat him to it.

"You know, Scott, if you would start wearing skirts again you wouldn't have to ruin your good pants," she said sweetly.

The laughs and clapping in the classroom were like a tonic to Jesse and he joined in excitedly. Hoager gave Leslie a hateful look as he hobbled down the isle to his seat. It looked like he still was not used to maneuvering around on crutches and he dropped them at least twice with various colorful curses punctuating each clatter of wood. Jesse and Leslie looked at each other and smiled.

_Maybe it wasn't going to be such a bad year after all!_

Mrs. Diane Mason was a middle-aged, heavy-set woman who taught art to the students at Lark Creek Elementary School. Over the Christmas holiday, she had received a call from Bill Burke (with authorization from Jack Aarons) requesting she examine some of the drawings Jesse had produced over the last week of the break. Mrs. Mason knew Jesse well and had seen his potential. And while he was, as she termed it, _modestly gifted_, she knew he would have a difficult time improving without the benefit of individual instruction. As a favor to the Burkes, who had donated many books to the school library, Mrs. Mason agreed to meet with Jesse during his P.E. period; she was intrigued by the unusual praise the boy had received from the famous author.

Jesse brought his portfolio into the empty classroom during third period and greeted Mrs. Mason. He was surprised to see samples of his work from fifth grade, as well as a couple drawings from earlier in the current year.

"Jesse, hello. Come over and have a seat. Let me see what you have there." Mrs. Mason held out her hand as Jesse offered the folder. Thirty seconds later, Jesse noticed Mrs. Mason had a look similar to Mr. Burke's the week before: she didn't believe he had drawn the pictures.

"Jesse, I must say…these are beautiful. I have to be honest with you, if Bill Burke didn't tell me his story I would have had a difficult time…I'm sorry, it's not that I don't trust you, but these are masterful. Your work earlier this year and last was good, but this is like, well, it's like someone else drew them." Obviously flustered and not a little confused, Mrs. Mason paged through the small pile, finishing with the drawing he did of Leslie's eyes.

"Jesse, is this Leslie Burke? Never mind, of course it is, her father said it was. Oh my!"

Jesse wasn't quite sure what to make of the art teacher's comments. He was angry when she mentioned her doubt of their authenticity, but her praise was otherwise so complete he also felt a calming satisfaction.

"I wonder, Jess… would you excuse me for a minute?" Standing, the woman walked over to the room telephone and made a request. Seconds later the public address made an announcement for Leslie Burke to report to the art classroom. She ran into the room less than a minute later.

"Hi Mrs. Mason. Hi, Jess!"

"Leslie, I understand Jesse drew this of you?" She was holding the paper up, comparing the original to the copy. "Extraordinary. Jesse, do you think you could draw the rest of her face?"

"Uh, I guess so, if Leslie doesn't mind." Leslie shrugged and agreed.

"Wonderful. Would you have a seat…?"

"Mrs. Mason, can she sit over there?" Jesse interrupted, pointing to another spot. "The light's better."

"Certainly, Jesse. I'll get you some pencils."

"Just regular #2s, please, that's what I used for this."

Jesse received another surprised look from the teacher, but she did as asked and in a minute he had started. It took most of the rest of the period, and there were some small incomplete areas, but when Mrs. Mason interrupted Jesse, shortly before the forth period bell rang, the picture was essentially complete. And it was beautiful.

Leslie jumped up and looked at it, whistling. "Hey, Jess, not bad."

"Not bad?" Mrs. Mason exclaimed, almost harshly. "It's…It's…Jesse, I need to speak with you and your parents. Oh, no, don't worry, dear, nothing's wrong," she added quickly, seeing the expression of apprehension on the young artist's face. "We need to get you some exposure. Perhaps Tech or Radford…" Mrs. Mason trailed off, in an almost dreamy way. Then the bell rang and she excused the children, promising to return Jesse's drawings before the end of the day.

"Wow!" Jesse said, walking down the hallway with Leslie to their next class.

"Yeah, not bad…_CU_. What's 'Tech' and 'Radford'?"

"They're the two big universities down here. But I wonder what she wants to do?"

"Who cares? She likes them and that picture of me was amazing."

Leslie was having a hard time controlling her excitement, but Jesse was, for the first time, becoming a little concerned. _How can I suddenly draw so well? Who cares!_

Jesse Aarons was not the only person curious about his apparent over-night mastering of his talent. Mrs. Mason carefully placed the pictures back in their holder and stored the portfolio in a locked drawer. After her forth-period class she went to the school counselor and asked a few questions about Jesse Aarons. There was nothing extraordinary about him, the man said. He came from a poor family, and not knowing about his family's sudden and temporary infusion of cash assumed his new clothes were gifts. Jesse, he said, had had a bad accident the previous spring that broke his leg and nearly killed Leslie Burke, he reminded Mrs. Mason, an event that had drawn the two children very close.

"Oh, that's right…" she said absently.

Thanking the counselor, she returned to her classroom and went to the phone to call a friend at Virginia Tech. They spoke for a while, Mrs. Mason explaining what she had seen, and the nearly overnight change in the student. Then the Tech professor asked some questions of his own. Neither, however, could find an explanation that explained Jesse Aarons.

"I know that head injuries, or tragedies," the man on the other end of the phone stated, "can often lead to spurts of inspiration, but not the technical proficiency you're telling me about."

"If I brought the drawings over, Jerry, would you have a look at them?"

"Sure, Diane, any time. Bring the boy…Jesse's his name? Bring him along, too, if you like. Just give me a couple days notice." They made a couple tentative dates before finishing the call.

Mrs. Mason checked the class schedule and returned Jesse's pictures to him just before lunch. She briefly summarized her idea about visiting the university and said she would contact his parents that evening for permission. Jesse thanked her again and set off with Leslie to eat. Mrs. Mason walked back to the teacher's lounge to pick up her meal, but found she did not have much of an appetite. She knew she was becoming involved in something highly unusual, perhaps unique, and had to suppress a brief wave of jealousy as she pondered the eleven-year-old boy who had, in the space of a couple weeks, far outclassed her own modest talent.

* * *

As January wore on, and the excitement of Christmas wore off, Jesse and Leslie fell back into their patterns of daily life: school, homework, chores, sleep. But the approaching visit to Virginia Tech made Jesse edgy and distracted him somewhat. His older sisters, always looking for an excuse to irritate him, were merciless at home and invented a number of new ways to pick on their only brother. When Jesse had had enough he would burst out, yelling at them, to the limit of his ability, which only made matters worse. He wished, at times, he could pay for Ellie to go off to college the following fall. The prospect of her spending the rest of her life, or at least the next few years, in the same house as him was most unpleasant.

At school, Scott Hoager's relentless teasing was only partly tempered by his injury, but Jesse had much success taming his temper, which only infuriated his nemesis more. The only time he nearly lost control was when Hoager began to pick on Leslie directly, not through him. And while he knew his friend could stand up for herself, verbally and physically, it galled Jesse to hear some of the things she put up with. It irritated him even more when Hoager said something he didn't understand. Some of the words were vaguely familiar and he often spent a few minutes, at least once a week, trying to look up the word in a dictionary. It was a wasted effort, however, until he came across a lexicon of slang.

January 27 was the date Mrs. Mason had set up for her, Jesse, and Mrs. Aarons to travel to Blacksburg to visit her art professor acquaintance. Jesse was more than ready to get the engagement behind him; the idea of a university level art professor appraising his work and abilities made him quite nervous and he would much rather have spent the day studying than wasting a good chunk of a Saturday traveling and talking. But he also enjoyed a certain pride in what was happening, though he had given up trying to figure out _why_ he was able to draw as well as he could. He simply accepted it as a gift.

A sense of déjà vu swarmed around Jesse the morning of the twenty-seventh. Mrs. Mason had just picked him and his mother up for the hour-long trip to Blacksburg and they were stopped in front of the Burke's house waiting for traffic to pass on the main road. It caused a momentary panic until Jesse remembered that his friend had left the night before on a long weekend trip to Arlington. He wished Leslie could have gone with them, he was nervous and her presence always seemed to calm him down. But on the way home from school the previous day she said she had confidence in him and that she would call Saturday evening to see how everything went.

The campus of Virginia Polytechnic Institute, or VPI as it was more commonly known, was well over a hundred years old. The original school, Virginia Agricultural and Mechanical College, was founded in 1872, and Jesse noticed, as they drove around the campus, that it had an old smell to it. It was not an offensive odor, rather it was steeped with ivy, grass, trees, and dried leaves; even the brick and stone buildings added an earthy flavor. He imagined that spring would be beautiful on the grounds and envisioned himself painting the school with its surrounding mountains and scurrying students.

Entering Talbot Hall, the center of the university's Art Department, gave Jesse a feeling of belonging and his first thought was of being _home_. The smell of paints and paper seemed to permeate the air, the corridor walls were covered with art of all types and his mother had to drag him forward from time to time. It was a welcome distraction from the growing anxiety he had been dealing with. As they entered the office of the department head, however, panic began to return; it was made worse by the stares he was receiving from students and faculty, as if they couldn't find any reason whatsoever for an eleven-year-old boy to be on campus. Then a loud-ish voice shook him out of his distracted state.

"Jerry, this is Jesse Aarons," he heard Mrs. Mason say, "And Jesse, this is Dr. Jerry Gilbert, the Assistant Dean of the Art Department."

They shook hands and greeted each other politely, and then Dr. Gilbert led them into a small conference room next to his office. Over the next half hour, Jesse listened and answered questions about his background, experiences drawing and painting, and some general knowledge about art. Once, Jesse was sure he saw the professor give Mrs. Mason a less-than-friendly look, he supposed it was something along the lines of, _Why do you have this kid here wasting my time?_

Then it was time for Jesse's work to be presented. He began with two old sketchbooks he had doodled in years before and was somewhat relieved to see that Dr. Gilbert approve of his actions. "Jesse, it's a good sign that you don't throw things away. It shows confidence in your work." Mrs. Mason next presented Jesse work from fifth and sixth grade. Dr. Gilbert only looked at all these older works briefly. "Alright, Jesse, let me see what you've done more recently."

Now Jesse pulled out the illustrations that Mr. Burke's publishers rejected. Their host spent more time evaluating these two sketches, asking some questions about his inspiration and choice of symbols. It was the first time Jesse felt the man had seemed at all satisfied with something he had drawn. When asked why the drawings were rejected, Jesse told Dr. Gilbert what he was told: lack of realism and detail in human figures.

"Yes, it was a fair criticism, but not bad for someone who hasn't had any formal training. Now let's see your latest."

At this point Mrs. Mason told Jesse to pull out the picture he had redrawn of the beach scene just presented. He did as was told and Dr. Gilbert took the paper as he listened to his friend explain the sketch. When Jesse looked back to the Assistant Dean he lost his temper; Dr. Gilbert had the same look of doubt Mr. Burke and Mrs. Mason had displayed when they first saw the work.

"I drew it," Jesse declared hotly.

Dr. Gilbert looked at Jesse through the bottom of his glasses. "I never said you didn't."

"You have the same look everyone does when they see it. Why?"

The answer was about what Jesse expected. "Because, Jesse," Dr. Gilbert began, picking up the original illustration and handing it to him, "no one goes from drawing this, to this," he handed the second picture, "in one week. No one…unless you could always draw this well and simply never did. And no eleven-year-old I know could ever draw that good," the man added, almost as an afterthought.

Dr. Gilbert sat back in his chair and considered Jesse for a moment. "Diane tells me you drew something for her. May I see it?"

Jesse took out the nearly complete drawing of Leslie and handed it over.

"Beautifully done. Who's the model, your sister?"

"It's Jesse's gir, eh, a friend from school," Mrs. Aarons answered.

"You did this in two sittings?"

"Yes."

Dr. Gilbert smiled and handed the picture to Jesse. "How did I know you drew that at two different times?"

"The lighting was different and I shadowed it differently. I tried to make them the same, but…"

"But you didn't know how, right?" Jesse nodded.

"Ok, Jesse, I'm convinced. The real question is, what now?"

Mrs. Aarons spoke up again. "What do you mean? Should he take lessons?"

Mrs. Mason and Dr. Gilbert laughed politely. "No, that's not exactly what I meant, though he could probably _instruct_ half my faculty in some things. Mrs. Aarons, Jesse, when I asked 'what next?' I was referring to where you want to go with this extraordinary talent."

"It's that good?" Jesse asked, not really believing his ears.

"Oh, yes. You have a few years to go, Jesse, but if you're still drawing like this by the time you're a junior in high school, I would guess Tech would offer you a full scholarship."

Mrs. Aarons gasped, what she just heard was so far from anything she expected. Jesse sat, stunned, and then asked, "Is a scholarship like what football players get? It pays for school?"

"That's exactly what it is, Jesse, and more. Room, board, tuition, fees, books, everything. We have one gal here on a full scholarship and she's nowhere near your level." Smiling, Dr. Gilbert handed back the other pictures before continuing. "But I have to be honest with you, as much as we would be proud of having you at Tech, you'd be wasting your time here. We have an excellent department, but I doubt we could teach you anything significant. Oh, maybe a bit here and there, but you should look into places like Carnegie Mellon, Williams College, Washington University, and other top-notch art schools."

These names had little meaning to an eleven-year-old, but his mother's eyes widened and then settled on her son. She was seeing in him something neither she nor her husband, nor their other children would, or could, attain.

Following this initial meeting, Dr. Gilbert gave Mrs. Mason, Jesse, and his mother a tour of the entire campus on one of the security department's golf carts. By noon, half-frozen and ready to retreat indoors, they enjoyed lunch in the faculty dining hall; a place Dr. Gilbert assured his guests would provide a better meal than the student cafeteria. Then he made a proposal. "Jesse, if you're interested, and with your mother's permission, I'd like to take you to one of our studios and let you try your hand with some professional tools."

Mary Aarons didn't have to ask her son if he liked the idea, she could tell by his smile. So Jesse went off with Dr. Gilbert while his mother remained with Mrs. Mason to chat about the world of art and artists.

Returning to Talbot Hall, Jesse and the Assistant Dean left their coats in his office and walked to the different studios. Dr. Gilbert let Jesse look into a number of rooms were dozens of students were painting or drawing everything from other pieces of art to flowers to one studio with nude male and female models. They had entered from the dressing room of that studio so as to spare Jesse embarrassment; they only saw the backs of the models. After going through most of the building, Dr. Gilbert gave Jesse a choice of which room he would like to work in. He chose a westward facing third floor studio that contained a variety of smaller objects to draw. Selecting a large pad of heavy paper over an easel, and his favorite graphite pencils, he sat in a comfortable chair and began.

Dr. Gilbert watched Jesse for a few minutes with extreme interest. Aside from the boy's talent, he was astounded that Jesse wasn't even looking at what he was drawing. He said nothing for a long time before interrupting his guest to tell him that he would be back in an hour. When the hour was up, he returned with a half-dozen other artists, some faculty some students. One young man walked up quietly behind Jesse to look over his shoulder. He shook his head and left without a word. The others waited. And waited. About three in the afternoon, Mrs. Mason came into the now packed studio with Jesse's mother. Most of the senior faculty and twenty or more students were watching as their guest finished his work. He sighed and stretched. Mr. Gilbert approached, asking to see the drawing. Without looking, Jesse handed over the pad and leaned forward to rub his eyes and then stretch more.

Dr. Gilbert looked at the pad for a full minute before moving again. When he did, it was to turn the pad around so everyone could see the work.

The studio erupted in applause, startling Jesse out of his seat. Half the onlookers were instantly trying to get to the picture and the other half to Jesse so as to shake his hand. Blushing furiously and feeling very conspicuous, he smiled a little and made his way to the back of the room where he had seen his mother. He wanted nothing more than to leave and go home, but Mr. Gilbert's voice stopped him.

"Jesse, wait!" He turned and walked back to his host. "You forgot to sign your work." Holding the pad, Mr. Gilbert handed him a pencil and Jesse signed the corner before again retreating from the crowd.

Ten minutes later, the Assistant Dean was again back with his small group of visitors, this time in his office. The picture was open on his desk and for the first time Jesse's mother and art teacher could clearly see what he had drawn.

"Do you recognize this, Mrs. Aarons?" Dr. Gilbert asked unnecessarily, he had seen the look on the woman's face.

"It's beautiful…yes, Dr. Gilbert, that's our house."

"I thought it might be. And Jesse, is that you on the porch swing with the girl in the other sketch?"

"Uh, yeah…yes, sir. That's my friend, Leslie."

Dr. Gilbert took out his pen, and turning the page over wrote his name, the date, and a few other notes. "Jesse, if it's alright with you I'd like to keep this for a while. I'll have it back to you by the first of March, at the latest." Jesse shrugged and said it was fine.

With the daylight fading, Mrs. Mason announced that they had to be heading home. Dr. Gilbert escorted them to their spot in the visitor's parking lot and bade them farewell, then returned to his office. Another man was there looking at Jesse's painting.

"What do you think, Gil?" the Dean of the Art School asked his friend.

Shaking his head, Dr. Gilbert flopped into his cushy leather chair. "If I didn't see him do it myself, I'd say it was impossible. Heaven knows_ I_ can't draw like that, Bill, and I'm a damn site better than you."

The Dean smiled at the old joke but said nothing for a long minute. "He'd be a big feather in our cap, Jerry."

"Don't even think it, Bill. We'd be crucified for bringing someone like him here, and you know it."

"Yes, yes; but that's not what I was thinking." The Dean sat down and chatted with his friend for a while before coming to an agreement. "I'll leave the details up to you, Gil, and be sure your friend, what's her name, Diane? Make sure she knows we're grateful."

"Got it. Say, Bill. What if young Mr. Aarons doesn't want to sell?"

"You said he came from a poor family, didn't you?"

"Yeah, so?" the Assistant Dean said cautiously.

"Make him – or his parents - an offer they can't refuse. You know what our budget is for that sort of thing." With a casual wave, the Dean returned to his office.

Dr. Jerry Gilbert sat for a long time, thinking a little about the agreement, but mostly of what he had witnessed that afternoon. He looked at Jesse's picture, too, and considered what he was seeing. Opening his top desk drawer, he withdrew a magnifying glass and examined the two figures in the picture. _What did he say her name was? Leslie?_ The detail was so unbelievable he though he saw a scar on the side of the girl's head, just above her ear. He continued the examination, scrutinizing and admiring the magnificent detail. After a while he noticed something - something very odd - not unique, but…he couldn't explain the feeling it gave him. He stepped out of his office and borrowed a stronger magnifying glass from an elderly professor down the hall and returned to confirm his suspicion.

The entire picture, he saw, was centered on the two children – on the _one_ child. The hair on Dr. Gilbert's back stood up as he looked closer and closer. 'Leslie' appeared, as he saw, about twelve or thirteen, but the 'Jesse' in the picture was… _What?_ In size, posture, dress they were both Leslie's age, but the boy's image was clearly older. _Was that intentional?_ As he was about to move on to another part of the drawing he found another tiny detail. 'Leslie' and 'Jesse,' although not sitting right next to the other, had rested their arms – 'Jesse's' right and 'Leslie's' left – on the swing's seat, between them. And, almost invisible, even under the magnifying glass, their fingers were touching.

"_Jesse Aarons, you have a very interesting imagination inside that little head of yours,_" Dr. Jerry Gilbert said quietly.

He had no idea how true his statement was.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The impression that arrived in thirty-year-old Jesse Aarons' mind was the most unusual he had ever experienced. He knew instantly what it was, and for the first time since he had died he entertained hope that his plan had succeeded, in one way or another.

He was sitting on the front porch of his house, on a swing… _But we don't have a swing!_ …next to Leslie. It was undoubtedly Leslie, but how he knew this he could not imagine, for he was still totally void of any sensory input.

_Yet there she is!_

_I'm almost close enough to touch her._

He reached out with his thoughts, trying to will his mind to touch hers.

There was no indication whether he was successful or not, but as the impression faded away, Jesse Aarons was content for the first time in at least eighteen years.

_Somehow, someway, somewhere, Leslie Burke lived._

* * *

_**Saturday, January 27, 2008**_

_Dear Diary,_

_What a day! Arlington had a break from winter today and the temperature got up to 60. I wish I had my shorts! I took the twins over to the Harrison Street Park and rode the little spinning thing until Dylan barfed up his lunch. After that we took it easy and watched some guys playing football at Yorktown HS. You can see the field from the swings._

_Aunt Joan took us to the Lost Dog Deli again. Mom tried a Chinese beer and said it tasted like the S word._

_Mom tried to talk to me about Jess again but I told her there wasn't anything to talk about. Then she told me that the parents' grape-vine (that means gossiping old ladies) said Jesse and I were 'a couple.' (Don't I wish!) I told her it was just a rumor started by Scott Hoager, and knowing Scott's reputation she seemed to believe me. Sigh…_

_I JUST TALKED WITH JESS! He sounded like he had a great day in Blacksburg. He got to tour the campus and draw in a real studio. He said he drew a picture of his house with us sitting on the front porch swing, and that Dr. Somebody really liked it. Tomorrow he's going into Baxley with his father to get some part for their truck, after church, of course._

_I better go to bed now, while I'm thinking about something/one nice._

_**  
Sunday, January 28, 2008**_

_Dear Diary,_

_I hate my mother again. She's __pregnant__! She said it was a __surprise__. I'm not exactly sure how that works, I told her. If you "do it," you get pregnant. She explained that after having me they tried for eight years to get pregnant, but then they, 'gave up.' Hmmm, all indications are that they didn't really 'give up.'_

_Aunt Joan and Uncle Brian were stunned for a second when Mom told them the news, then they hugged her and '_congrats this'_ and '_congrats that'_… very boring after a few rounds of '_congrats_.' I'm trying to figure out if this means I have to start loving her again against my will. But there is a bright side to all this, when the baby comes Mom will be too busy with him/her to bug me. Mom says she's due in October. So much for another trip to the beach this summer._

_**  
Monday, January 29, 2008**_

_Dear Diary,_

_I woke up this morning to the sound of Mom barfing. It was such a lovely noise to hear first thing in the morning, and she said I have at least another two months of it to live with. I kinda hate my mother… but I feel bad for her, too. We're heading home late this morning so I might get to see Jess when we get home._

_Dad called late yesterday and said his book was ready, and Jess's pictures will be in the second chapter. I bet he's happy about that._

_Got to remember to get new batteries for my CD player…_

_In the car… booooring… but at least the traffic isn't bad. Mom's always complaining about the trucks, and there are a lot of them. We stopped in Staunton for a snack, it's such a depressing city, then we were off again._

_HOME, HURRAY!_

* * *

January passed quietly into February without any remarkable events for the Burke and Aarons families. The bleak winter weather waxed and waned with the Arctic highs or Gulf Stream lows, neither seeming to be able to gain a firm grip in the Roanoke area. More often than not, rain soiled the day and kept the children indoors where they aggravated their parents and siblings to no end. The meteorological doldrums also wore heavily upon Jesse's desire to draw, and he felt he was stuck in an interminable period of non-inspiration.

The growing friendship between Judy Burke and Mary Aarons was bound tighter still when the expectant mother shared her happy news with her neighbor a few days after returning from visiting her sister in Arlington. Jesse would often return from school griping about the rain as he entered the house, to find his friend's mother and his own commiserating over the burdens of womanhood or some unfathomable aspect of female psychology. Of the snippets of conversations he paid attention to, only one was understandable, and he was not quite sure how to feel about it. The mothers were discussing the gender of their children, noting only one boy and five girls between them, when Jesse's mother declared that, _no_, _they had three male children between them_. Mrs. Burke found this immensely humorous; Jesse just went back to studying and scratching his head.

On February 10th, Mary Aarons quietly reminded her son that Valentine's Day was only four days away and asked if he wanted to get anything special for 'someone.' Jesse had completely forgotten about the day, or had unconsciously suppressed the idea, he wasn't sure which, and was now faced with confronting feelings he had been ignoring since Christmas. Telling his mother he would think about it, and weathering her stern gaze, he hastily retreated to his room and holed up on his bed, curtains drawn, so May would not bother him.

He found the answer to his dilemma almost instantly; his only concern was how his friend would interpret the gift. He wanted it to be meaningful to her – she was, after all, his best friend – but he had not matured enough, nor had his affection for her matured enough, to the point where he felt comfortable using a word like _love_. And _sweetheart_ was right out. He would draw her a Valentine card and settled on a scene he had on his night stand, the picture Leslie had given him for her birthday, of them at the ocean. Refining the scene further within his mind, Jesse tried an artistic technique he had never used before and drew, in a muted red hue, a heart in the center of the paper, almost as a watermarked background. Then, using the photograph as a model, he drew Leslie and himself in the foreground. When finished, the five-by-eight illustration was, he felt, perfect. He cut the paper, folded it with the artwork on the front, and wrote simply on the inside: Jess.

Another child was also making careful consideration of a Valentine gift for her best friend. Leslie Burke had spent much of that same Sunday doodling pink hearts her diary's margins, particularly in the space near Jesse's name. But unlike Jesse, Leslie had no compunctions about using the word 'love' in a Valentine card because it truly was a more accurate description of her affection towards the boy next door. What was holding her back, she knew, was one of the conversations she had had with her mother about Jesse, about how his maturity level would not allow him to understand his feeling to be the same as hers. It was, in fact, this explanation that was tempering Leslie's actions. She hated it. But she knew it was necessary to be patient and gentle with her friend.

Digging into a bag of unused Valentine cards from the past couple years, she eventually settled on one that she thought adequate. It still had the obligatory hearts, but it spoke of friendship, not love, per se. Then she had to anguish through a suitable declaration; simply writing just "_From_ _Leslie"_ would not do. She thought she might get away with, "_Love, Leslie_," or even, "_Lots of Love, Leslie_," but hesitated. So she asked her father. The result was a safe but unsatisfying, "_Always Yours, Leslie_."

On February 14th, both children had independently planned to present the other with their card while waiting for the bus to arrive. Unfortunately, there was another downpour that morning, and Leslie nearly missed the bus having forgotten an assignment at home. They squished into their seat and self-consciously fingered their cards wondering when they could present them without drawing unwanted attention, which meant that during school hours and on the bus was out.

Leslie spoke first, quietly, half pulling the card out of her raincoat pocket. "Jess, I have something for you…after school?" He nodded vigorously, also showing a corner of his gift to her. This was all they dared, as the bus was quite full. May, on the other hand, had no reservations and happily handed her brother and friend a mushy, homemade card each.

A grim satisfaction filled Leslie and Jesse throughout the day as they regularly saw Scott Hoager watching them for any sign of an exchange they knew would not occur. Finally, after school, Jesse sent May ahead and he pulled his card out from a book he had placed it in at school to prevent it from becoming mashed in his pocket. Leslie did likewise. Jesse, a bit embarrassed, handed his friend the card, which she patiently opened.

Jesse's desire had been to give Leslie something meaningful, but he didn't realize how much of an effect the simple card had. He only made it part way through his _Happy Valentine's Day_ wish when Leslie threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Fearing a repeat of the Christmas kiss, Jesse gave her an awkward pat on her back and tried to distract Leslie by asking if she had something for him – which he knew she did. His friend released him, but not before brushing his cheek with hers, a motion that left Jesse instantly feeling both frightened and wishing they didn't have coats and slickers on.

Jesse next read Leslie's simple card and smiled brightly at her three-word declaration, _Always Yours, Leslie_. It had the effect Leslie hoped for, too: leaving a warm feeling of contentment inside her best friend's chest. With both children blushing, they each headed home, running to avoid the next impending downfall.

A short while later, Leslie unabashedly placed Jesse's card on the refrigerator door amongst her family's other cards. She thought it most appropriate there, for now.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	11. Part 2: The Passage

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 11 – The Passage**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_NOTE: Some of the narration in this chapter is taken from the Virginia State Family Life Education (FLE) program, better know in colloquial terms as sex ed. If human anatomy and biology bother you it may be wise to skip this chapter, but you will be missing a couple very important events. There is nothing gross, crude, or inappropriate – in my opinion – within the chapter below and the story will continue to have a TEEN rating._

Late winter and early spring passed speedily for Jesse Aarons, the only remarkable event being an offer from Virginia Tech's Art Department, Dr. Gilbert specifically, to purchase Jesse's drawing of his house. The letter came addressed to Jesse's mother, since the artist was a minor, but she immediately called her husband and son over to read it together. Initially, Jesse was reluctant to sell the drawing, he knew it was probably the best he had ever done and had been planning to frame it and hang it in his room. But the offer the University made was too good to refuse, Jesse ultimately made his decision, and asked his parents if they thought he was making the right move. He was surprised to hear them both defer to his judgment. "It's yours, Jess," his father said. "And the money'll help you go to one of those fancy Art schools that doctor told you about."

He was right, Jesse knew, and he would be meeting with some artists late in April to decide which he would take lessons with, and they were all expensive. College even more so. With the help of his parents, he drafted a letter to Dr. Gilbert accepting the offer. Two weeks later he received the check. The following day, Mrs. Mason took Jesse aside in art class and told him the University had donated a huge assortment of used equipment, paints and other supplies worth a small fortune. She gave Jesse full credit for the bequest, but knowing his modesty she also promised to keep it secret.

* * *

The first Friday evening in April, a week before his twelfth birthday, Jesse was watching a video with Leslie, as had become their Friday night routine. Although still early, May had fallen asleep on the couch with her head on Jesse's lap and her favorite stuffed animal, Lamby-Pie, clenched tightly to her chest. Joyce Ann, the baby, was tottering around and around the kitchen table where her parents were playing dominos and engaging in an unusually colorful discussion about what veggies to grow in the garden that year. But the single most weighty contribution to the peace and harmony that evening was the absence of Ellie and Brenda who were double dating with boys from Lark Creek High School. Jesse was perfectly happy with this, as it spared him the embarrassment of having to constantly apologize to Leslie for his sisters' rude remarks and childish behavior.

Earlier that evening, Mr. Aarons had picked up the video his son had requested, guaranteeing the _My Girl_ debacle of months earlier would not be repeated. The movie, _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, was recommended by Mikey Sellers, but Jesse should have been more observant of the boy's amused expression when he accepted the suggestion. Even Jesse's father looked at him with curiosity as he handed the movie to his son. Leslie, however, said she had heard it was a good flick and the show started after dinner dishes were cleaned up.

It turned out that the only thing the movie was good for was putting all three spectators to sleep. By nine o'clock the three kids were dozing on the couch with the two older ones slumped over against each other, Leslie's head resting on Jesse's shoulder and his atop her head. Mr. Aarons picked up May and took her to bed while Mrs. Aarons turned off the TV.

"Wa-Wazzup?" Jesse muttered when he heard his mother removing the video from the clunky old VCR. He sat up, not realizing he was being used as a pillow, and Leslie keeled over, her head landing on Jesse's lap opposite of where May had been moments earlier.

"Maybe you should walk Leslie home, Jess, I think she's had enough for the day." Mrs. Aarons stepped over and raised the girl into a seated position where her head lolled back and forth until she sputtered into a more conscious state a few seconds later.

"Hey, Les, time to go. You awake?" Jesse prodded his friend.

"Mm-hmm…that movie was terrible, Jess," she said, still half-asleep and yawning. "I think I'll pick out the next one. I couldn't stand the girl who was always chewing gum."

"Uh, yeah, she was totally weird."

Jesse stood and pulled Leslie up; she proceed to flop, still not fully awake, against him. Laughing, Mrs. Aarons helped rouse her more until they were able to get her jacket on. Then Jesse walked Leslie home.

Shuffling down the drive, Jesse felt Leslie's hands on his shoulders and her head thump down hard on his upper spine. "Cut it out, Les, I can't walk like this," he griped. Eventually his friend was able to stagger the last hundred yards to her house with only the assistance of her arm around Jesse's waist, and his around hers. With a barely audible _thank you_ and a short shake of her hand, Leslie entered her house and, Jesse assumed, headed directly to bed.

Turning back, Jesse berated himself for snapping at his best friend. He had noticed, over the past couple months, that there were subtle changes taking place between them. They were neither bad nor worrisome, more unexpected and challenging – maybe even a little interesting. He found a more comfortable familiarity growing between himself and his friend, particularly when they bumped into each other or touched hands. In the past, these occasions would set of alarms in Jesse's brain, except on the rare instance when Leslie would deliberately take his hand for comfort, or they would fall into an 'automatic hug,' as Jesse had mentally defined the embraces they shared.

_Tonight_, Jesse considered, _walking Leslie to her house with my arm around her waist, felt…_ _good_. The hip and waist were not parts of her anatomy on to which Jesse had ever placed his hands, except a year earlier when she was drowning, and he certainly didn't feel the same now as he did then. And her arm around him seemed to have left a scorch mark across his back.

Shaking his head to distract himself from wandering into thoughts that were so terribly unfamiliar, Jesse, for the first time in his life, looked back upon the evening as more than just hanging out with his friend. He wondered if this was what a date was like. _No,_ he reasoned,_ a date is when you ask someone out and do something together…and it usually ends with a kiss._ He decided that it wasn't a date, yet.

This line of thinking, however, prompted Jesse to again mull over his relationship with Leslie, particularly _what it was_ and _where it was going_. Such questions were working their way into his consciousness more frequently, usually retreating swiftly back to whence they sprouted – a dark spot in his brain he was quite certain he would never fully understand. But more recently these thoughts were lingering, demanding attention.

As he slowed his gait home, two words kept popping into his head: _like_ and _love_.

Jesse was finally beginning to become aware of the feelings associated with love, or more precisely, feelings associated with loving someone outside his family. He had known for a long time that he _liked_ Leslie, even to the point where he was comfortable admitting to himself that he _liked _her_ a lot_. They talked freely about anything, (though not yet everything,) shared their fears and hopes, studied together, and were completely comfortable in each other's presence, as friends. It was Leslie who had shown him Terabithia, and opened his mind to all sorts of possibilities he had never before experienced, in fantasy or real life. He was certain, too, that it was Leslie's presence in his life that had stirred his recent explosion of artistic inspiration. She was, in every sense of the term, his _best_ _friend_. And until recently the fact that she was a girl did not modify his affection towards her.

But that was now changing.

He found himself more aware of Leslie's gender and how it was so different than his own: emotionally, intellectually, and physically. Their Christmas gift exchange was just one of the times he saw her as something more than a 'girl.' She was changing in ways that no longer evoked fright; now she stirred up curiosity. And while winter was not the best time of the year to notice physical changes in a young woman, spring had arrived. Without a heavy coat and sweater, Jesse was seeing more of the growth his friend was experiencing. He also found it difficult _not_ to look at her at times.

Jesse had graduated to speculating if his _like_ _of _Leslie was becoming a _love of_ Leslie. And the idea that this may be happening didn't scare him as much as it had in the past. What annoyed him was that he was only eleven, almost twelve, and there was no timetable for him to consult that would show when and how the various stages of a relationship should progress. At times he thought he would never be able to love Leslie, other times that it couldn't happen soon enough.

And the idea of kissing her was not quite as gross as it had once been – another change he was curious about.

In her bedroom, at the same time, Leslie was about to pull her shade closed when she saw that Jesse was barely moving on the road back to his house. He had his hands in his pockets, but he was looking up, though not as someone would gaze at the stars. She wondered if he was thinking of her. She _hoped_ he was thinking of her. Unlike Jesse, Leslie felt no doubts or hesitation with her awareness of love, but the waiting for Jesse to show he felt the same way was driving her a little crazy.

_But there had been some changes_, she admitted happily, _especially over the last few weeks_. She would catch him looking at her more, even if some of the glances appeared unfocused. Jesse was definitely becoming more comfortable being physically near her. When they sat together he no longer moved to the far side of the couch. But while she had not pushed physical contact between them, it was, at times, maddeningly difficult for her not to take his hand, or touch his arm when they were together. Their occasional embraces would often send tingles down her back.

As she watched Jesse disappear into the night she was _disgusted_ with her inability to stay awake earlier when walking home, for she was quite certain that Jesse had put his arm around her waist.

_But probably just to keep me walking…_

These were all things she kept in her diary, and read and reread, over and over, sometimes every night, even falling asleep with her face mashed against the black leather-bound book.

Another change in her life was that Leslie's strained relationship with her mother had much improved in the past month. They had reverted back to being friends as well as mother-daughter, and her mother had added one important part to their renewed bond: as the child developed inside her, Leslie's mother told her more about being a mother and the physical changes it entailed. But there were times, too, when Leslie felt her mother was actually warning her of something, and so she tuned her out, usually to think about Jesse.

A voice made her jump. "Is Jess still out there?" Mrs. Burke asked from the door to her daughter's room.

"He just left; it looked like he was thinking about something."

"Or _someone, _perhaps?"

Leslie shrugged.

There was a long pause. "Les, we need to talk. I need to…to tell you…"

"Mom, please, not tonight, I'm half asleep," the daughter said, sounding every bit the way she felt.

"Ok, Les. Maybe tomorrow?"

Leslie shut the shade. "Sure, Mom."

Judy Burke stepped silently back into the hallway, closing her daughter's door. It was the third time she had tried to talk to Leslie about _it_, and the third time it hadn't work. Leaning against the wall, tears of fear fell for her daughter. _She's so much like me in that respect…_ Wiping her eyes dry with the sleeve of her robe, Judy walked back to her bedroom and lay in bed with her husband who was making notes about his next book idea.

"First print should arrive tomorrow," he said, but didn't notice when he wasn't answered.

* * *

Early the next morning, Jesse Aarons awoke stunned; he couldn't recall the last time he'd wet his bed. Then, as he recalled the dream he had awoken from, he knew that wasn't what had happened. Embarrassed, apprehensive, confused, worried, anxious, and disgusted – all at the same time – Jesse slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb May, and went to the bathroom. Less than a week before his twelfth birthday and it had happened. He'd been warned by the movies and booklets the school had provided in fifth grade and earlier that year, he just never really wanted to believe it would be like this. In fact, he didn't know how he wanted it to be. If he had anything to be thankful for, it was that it had happened on a Saturday morning and he had plenty of time to shower and take care of the…_mess_.

Returning to his room after cleaning up, he went through stacks of school papers until he found the booklet for which he was searching. Jesse climbed back into bed, attached a book-light to the thin booklet, and started reading.

LARK COUNTY PUBLIC SCHOOLS  
FAMILY LIFE EDUCATION  
GRADE SIX PROGRAM DESCRIPTION

Sixth grade Family Life Education lessons include Mental Health Education and Human Growth and Development. Mental Health Education lessons are included in the health education curriculum Ready, Set, Go for Good Health. In addition, Human Growth and Development, which covers topics such as puberty, reproduction, sexually transmitted diseases, and abstinence, is offered as a separate unit that is taught in gender-separate classes.

_Skip all this part . . . . Here it is!_

Grade Six Instructional Objectives—Human Growth and Development Education

6.1: The student will explore the physical, emotional, and social changes that occur during puberty and relate personal hygiene to these changes.  
Descriptive Statement: This includes a review of physiological changes introduced in fifth grade and a brief examination of psychological and social changes, including mood swings, changing family and peer relationships, and increasing interest in romantic relationships…

_Yikes!_

Ways to cope with these changes are addressed, including proper diet and exercise and talking with a trusted adult such as an adult family member, teacher, counselor, or member of the clergy. The relationship among bodily changes, good personal hygiene and positive interactions with others is emphasized.

_Ok, ok…_

6.2: The student will review the structures and functions of the male reproductive systems and how these change during puberty.

Descriptive Statement: Instruction includes the structure and function of the reproductive organs, including the testicles, vas deferens, urethra, penis, and scrotum.

_I knew I should have read this better…_

2007 – 2008 Grade Six FLE Program Description 2

6.3: The student will expand prior knowledge of the process of human reproduction.

_Don't need this…_

6.4: The student will study basic facts about sexually transmitted diseases (STDs).

_Or this…_

6.5: The student will identify reasons for avoiding premarital sexual intercourse.

_Ugh, or this…_

The program addresses some of the concerns of pre-teen girls, including variations in the rate of physical development, menstruation, mood swings, acne, body odor, gender relations, and the onset of sexual feelings. Using realistic drawings, the program highlights the anatomical and physiological changes in the bodies of both girls and boys during puberty and illustrates the male and female reproductive systems. (Shown to both boys and girls in gender-separate groups.)

_Thank God!_

Grade Six Documents – Human Growth and Development Education  
Boy to Man, Third Edition. Chicago, IL: SVE and Churchill Media, 2002.  
7.1: The program addresses some of the concerns of pre-teen boys—concerns about height, mood swings, awkwardness around girls, sexual feelings, and acne. Using realistic drawings, the program highlights the anatomical and physiological changes that accompany puberty, including erections, nocturnal emissions…

_Crap, there it is._

Jesse flipped through the material and found section 7.1. Making himself comfortable, he began to read about what had just happened to him.

_Ok…_

_Ok…_

_EVERY MONTH! _He groaned silently_. Sheesh!_

At this point Jesse wished, more than ever, that he had an older brother to talk with. He read on.

Nocturnal emissions may or may not be accompanied by erotic dreams, and also the emission may happen without erection. It is possible to wake up during, or to simply sleep through, the ejaculation in what is sometimes called a "sex dream".

"_OH MY GOD!" _Jesse exclaimed, much louder than he thought he had.

"Be quiet, I'm trying to sleep," said May in a slightly annoyed and thoroughly sleepy voice.

The rest of the section spoke about the mechanics of what had happened, which he read with only slight interest, because it was what he had seen earlier that disturbed him the most.

…_they may… be accompanied by erotic dreams…_

In an embarrassed rush, Jesse collected everything he'd just pulled out and buried it as far out of sight as possible. But it wasn't enough, because there in his mind, so obvious that someone with any perception could have seen it if they looked in his ear – or so he felt – was the dream he'd been having about…_her_…_his best friend…Leslie_, when it happened. He tried desperately to forget the images of the two of them at the beach…_running, holding hands…embracing…kissing…and then..._

_STOP IT! You don't feel that way about her, you perv,_ half his conscience seemed to be shouting.

_YES YOU DO, ADMIT IT! You've wanted it since you saw her in that Christmas dress!_ Another equally powerful part of him countered.

Dressing quietly, Jesse decided to go for a run. He really didn't have any plan about where to go or what to see, he just wanted to leave – leave the morning behind. Fortunately, dawn had broken, and although deep spring weather was still a few weeks away, the air was calm and not too chilly. He jotted out a quick note about where he was, stretched, and took off. Passing the Burke's house, he shivered, recalling images that made him feel filthy and guilty.

It had been a very long time since Jesse had run to take his mind off something; he usually used the exercise to help clarify his thoughts. As he jogged the old familiar paths and back country roads, he was again able to lose himself in the physical exercise, and even the pain he experienced in his legs and chest (it had been months since he had run more than a couple miles) helped distract and soothe his mind.

He lost track of time, pushing himself relentlessly until he knew he had to stop. Then he went just a little further and leaned against a fence at the top of a hill to rest. When he looked down and saw Boxley in the distance he realized he had run nearly six miles, far more than he'd ever done at one time. He also realized he had to return home to do his chores, and Leslie was coming over to _hang out_, their new and less childish term for playing together.

_I can't do this, I can't do this…_

All the things he had thought of the night before, walking home from Leslie's house, had seemed logical, calm, and normal. Now this! He started walking back to keep his legs from cramping, wishing he'd brought some water, his thirst was becoming almost painful.

Much later that morning, Jesse was checking the animal trap in the greenhouse when Leslie arrived. She greeted him with a cheerful hello and asked if she could help.

"No, thanks, I'm just finishing," Jesse responded, intentionally not making eye contact.

"Ok. So, what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I just said that, didn't I?" Jesse snapped.

"What's wrong with you this morning…and why are you all sweaty?"

"None of your business, and I was running, if that's ok with you."

He finally looked at Leslie, still standing in the doorframe, and felt ashamed. It must have been very obvious that something was wrong because when Leslie saw his face she immediately walked up to him.

"Jess, what's wrong? I can tell something's bothering you."

_As if I could tell you, ha!_ "Just had a bad night, that's all."

"Oh, well, ok." Patting her friend's arm she sat down on an empty barrel and waited while Jesse placed the hose and spade back in their proper place.

"Uh, I have to get a shower. Want to wait inside?"

"Here or your house?" Leslie asked playfully, determined to cheer Jesse up. But it didn't work. "Jess, what's wrong?" She moved deftly around her friend and blocked the doorway to prevent him from leaving.

"Move, Leslie, it's nothing you could help with."

"Try me."

_Not likely!_ "_No!_"

"Jesse Aarons, stop being a jerk!" Leslie barked, refusing him the exit.

"Come on, Les, I have to…omph," Jesse stumbled backwards; Leslie had pushed him back hard.

"Jesse, stop being difficult. Let's go for a walk. If you feel like telling me what's wrong, ok. If not, that's ok, too."

"Yeah, sure," Jesse said in defeat. _Maybe there's something she could say to cheer me up_. "I'll change my shirt and be back in a second."

"That's better," Leslie said as Jesse disappeared into the house.

A short time later, they were walking down the path that ran beside the creek, deep into the woods. As they had discovered, the path continued on for about two miles before disappearing into the undergrowth, and the creek forked north and south around a small hill. Neither had said much, though Leslie noticed that Jesse was calmer than before.

"Feeling better?" she ventured.

"I guess."

"Jesse, is something wrong at home?" Leslie took his hand and stopped as she asked the question. She noticed that her friend was not returning her touch and let go.

"No, everything's fine." There was a definite bitterness to his answer.

"I don't believe you. You don't act this way for no reason, Jess."

"Look, Leslie, I just don't want to talk about it, ok? You can't always fix me, you know."

They resumed their walk, again in silence, but Leslie had gleaned one thing from her friend: whatever was bothering him was about himself, not his parents or sisters. _You can't always fix __me__…_

"You're right, Jess. Sorry."

"'S all right."

But it wasn't. Jesse felt like he had to talk with someone about it, but certainly not Leslie. His only other real choice was his father, and for a moment he thought it might actually work. Fear and embarrassment, however, had other plans for that notion. Sighing, Jesse pointed to a spot on the embankment to the creek and the friends sat wordlessly together.

Leslie noticed that Jesse had intentionally seated himself next to her, right next to her, but stared ahead, saying nothing, doing nothing, hands folded under his chin and elbows on his knees. Her friend was obviously troubled and Leslie reached her right arm around Jesse's back and rested it on his shoulder. She herself was surprised at the action; it had not been a planned deed. Then Jesse responded, too, which startled her even more. He turned towards her and rested his head on her shoulder; he then placed his left arm around her back with his hand on her waist.

They sat there for a long time, neither speaking nor moving, but for an occasional pat by Leslie on Jesse's shoulder or a stroke on the side of his head. It reminded Leslie of a time more than a year before when she sat in the family room being comforted by her mother. She remembered precisely why she needed to be held, too.

_You're not a little girl anymore, Les, you're becoming a woman…_

After perhaps a half-hour, Leslie gently raised Jesse off her shoulder and moved so they could see each other better. In her best friend's eyes she saw unshed tears, on his face was a look akin to despair. It moved her, and she automatically placed a hand on his cheek.

"Jesse, I'm always here for you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

Leslie leaned forward and rested her forehead on Jesse's; they watched each other for a few seconds before closing their eyes. It was, to both adolescents, the most intimate moment they had ever shared, both physically and emotionally. After a few seconds, they mutually pulled closer and embraced.

At that instant, Jesse finally began to understand some of the differences between _like_ and _love_.

* * *

After dinner that same evening, Leslie told her mother about her time with Jesse and how he seemed troubled about something. It was the first time in months the daughter had felt she could share with her mother something intimate. There was no resolution for Judy Burke to share with her daughter other than, perhaps, Jesse experiencing one of the moments in his life when he just didn't understand a feeling or situation. She reminded Leslie, also, that she too had had her share of times when nothing seemed to make sense.

"Did you feel like you could tell Jess about them?"

"Well, sometimes, but not always," Leslie admitted.

"I think you'll find you both have thoughts and feelings you don't understand, especially over the next few years. Adolescence isn't just getting taller, your body is changing, a lot."

"I know. It's just that Jesse had never had a hard time talking to me about anything."

Judy Burke sat up and held her daughter's shoulders firmly. "Les, think about what you just said! I'm certain there are things in your life you don't share with Jess. Why do you think he would be different?"

"I-I don't understand, Mom."

Thinking carefully, Judy selected what she thought was the easiest example for her daughter to understand. "Les, you love Jess, don't you?"

Blushing instantly, Leslie nodded. Her mother noted with curiosity that she had never blushed before when she had admitted her feelings for Jesse.

"Have you told Jess how you feel about him?"

"_NO!_ I-I couldn't! I want to…but…"

Smiling, Mrs. Burke touched the end of her daughter's nose. "I'm sure you do, but the point I'm trying to make is that sometimes we don't tell even our closest friends everything."

Leslie smiled. "Ok, I think I get it."

"Are you sure? Why _haven't_ you told Jess that you love him?" her mother asked with sly grin, tickling her daughter.

"I guess, because, uh…" Leslie Burke was seldom at a loss for words, but this was one of those times.

"There are probably a lot of reasons, Les. Maybe it's partly because you want to be sure he feels the same way as you. Or because _love_ means a lot more than _like_. But whatever the reasons you have for _not _telling him are _your_ reasons. You need to respect Jess's choice to not share this thing with you. Did you tell him when you had your first period?"

"_NO!_"

"See? There's something that has forever changed your life, but you didn't share with him. It doesn't mean you aren't his friend, it doesn't mean you're being dishonest. It was just something you didn't feel…like…" Judy Burke stopped and gave a little chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing, Les, I just remembered something. I have an idea. Next time Jess brings this thing that's troubling him up, suggest he talk to his doctor. _Don't worry, _it's nothing bad but sometimes people will open up to their doctor even before their spouse."

"Ok, I guess I can do that. Thanks, Mom." Leslie hugged her mother and then made a statement. "You wanted to talk to me about something yesterday."

"Yes, I did. And I do, but now isn't the time." Kissing the top of her daughter's head, Judy Burke bid her daughter goodnight and went off to bed.

Jesse did not bring up his 'problem' again, but Leslie noticed that he was more distracted than usual in school the next few days. He said it was nothing; Leslie doubted that, but did not press him.

* * *

Friday was Jesse's twelfth birthday and he had asked his parents to invite the Burke's for dinner and to celebrate with them. It was the first time in years that his parents had guests for dinner, but they both seemed to enjoy the prospect of entertaining, even his father, who worked his jaw before saying that it was about time to invite the new neighbors over. Of course, it meant that the entire house had to be cleaned, which earned him the wrath of his older sisters, but Jesse didn't care at all. His mother took care of the recalcitrant teens.

At school on Jesse's birthday, Scott Hoager, who had been ignoring them now that his cast was off and he could limp around more easily, seemed to be focusing on tormenting fifth graders. If anything, this irritated Jesse more and Leslie had to physically restrain him from attacking the bully.

"What's wrong with you, Aarons? Your girlfriend has to protect you. Doesn't want to see your face punched it?" Hoager and a couple of his other bully friends laughed and Leslie tried to pull him away. But Jesse wouldn't retreat. He had had enough, even if he _had_ promised Leslie he wouldn't do anything. _Besides_, he told himself reasonably, _I'm not going to do anything physical…_

Leslie watched with concern as Jesse walked towards the troublemakers. Then she noticed something: Jesse was no longer shorter than them! She knew he had grown a few inches since school started, but… _Wow!_

Hoager's cronies seemed to notice this, too, and backed off as Jesse faced them. He leaned over and grabbed the front of Hoager's shirt. Whatever he said was lost in the background noise of the playground, but it was obvious from the look on the bully's face he wasn't going to be bothering them any more – or at least until he grew a few more inches himself. Jesse released the shirt and pushed Hoager back. And it was over.

"Let's go, Les, I have a headache," Jesse said. Leslie could tell it would turn into a migraine shortly as she had become used to the signs. Even before they reached the clinic Jesse was starting to moan in pain and had to close his eyes.

"Almost there, Jess."

Entering the office, the school nurse, Ms. Kendrick, knew what Jesse needed, and after double checking his medication authorization pulled out the bottle of Clonidine he had sent in months earlier. Leslie guided him to a cot and he had the meds in him shortly thereafter.

"Happy birthday to me," Jesse quipped a few minutes later as the meds began to take effect.

"Feeling better?"

"Guess so."

"Ms. Burke," the nurse called over her shoulder, "next period starts in five minutes."

"Ok. Jess, I have to go, I'll see you later, ok?" There was a mumbled reply. "Hey, I almost forgot: what did you say to Hoager to make him back off?"

"I'll tell you later, need to sleep."

"Ok, bye."

* * *

"You had another migraine today? Jess, you need to tell us when it happens."

"Sorry, Mom, I forgot."

"Go write it in the notebook. Don't forget to put down what you ate for breakfast and lunch."

Grumbling, Jesse left to do as he was told, returning a couple minutes later just as Leslie was arriving. She was carrying a smallish rectangular box, colorfully wrapped and with a fancy bow on the top.

"Hi, Jess! Happy birthday," she said, running over to him and giving her friend a quick hug. "My Mom and Dad will be here at six, Mrs. Aarons."

"Thank you, Leslie. I appreciate you coming early to help. Jess, would you and Leslie set the table? Use the blue tablecloth on the counter."

Working together, Jesse and Leslie prepared the table and helped Mrs. Aarons with a few other odds and ends. While working, Jesse's mind was racing furiously. He had forgotten that he wanted to give Leslie something on _his_ birthday, just as she had for him the previous October. His cogitations distracted him greatly and Leslie had to fix every other place setting to make sure it had only one knife or spoon. She found Jesse's distracted state rather amusing. Jesse did not; there was simply nothing he had that he thought she might want.

At a quarter to six, Mr. Aarons come home from work, after a quick hello to his family and guest he ran upstairs to get cleaned up. May was sitting in a corner of the living room finishing the last strips of newspaper she was pasting together to make her brother another birthday decoration. Leslie noticed she had two of her Barbies assisting her.

She also noticed Jesse looking happier than he had moments before and assumed it was the rebound he sometimes had from his migraine meds. At one point Jesse caught her watching him and gave his friend a big smile that left her blushing. Another time he came up to her and remarked about her outfit, something she couldn't remember him doing since Christmas. It was so different from the way Jesse usually attended to her. Not that she didn't enjoy it.

The dinner was a rounding success and Jesse was unusually talkative, so much so that the teens hardly had a chance to say anything rude. Leslie wondered if this was Jesse's plan. Dessert was the traditional cake and ice cream, but this part of the evening left Leslie feeling a little down. She recalled her birthday six months earlier and the still unfulfilled wish she had made when blowing out the candles of her own cake. Tonight, just before he blew out his, Leslie saw Jesse glance at her.

_Did he wish for the same thing I did?_ Leslie wondered. _I doubt it._

The gifts followed dessert and when the family presents were finished, Mr. Burke presented Jesse with a first edition copy of his last book, _One Plus One Equal Three_, complete with a personal note from the author and his two illustrations in the second chapter. Over the past four months Jesse had nearly forgotten about the book. He was delighted with the gift and thanked Mr. Burke effusively.

Leslie's gift was a hardcover, four book set of the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Jesse and Leslie had been reading parts of The Hobbit together on some of their Friday evenings together. He turned to Leslie and gave her another big smile, mouthing thank you. Again she noticed something in his expression that was very different and she couldn't help but blush.

With the birthday events winding down, Mary Aarons dragged her two eldest daughters into the kitchen to clean up, a move that left both girls giving Jesse a threatening look. Judy Burke joined them. The two fathers walked off to the Burke house to look at a problem they were having with their well pump, or so they said. Joyce Ann was watching May play with her dolls. Suddenly, Jesse and Leslie found themselves alone and with no distractions. Jesse thought it might have been planned that way, but he was not complaining, so he and Leslie went out to the front porch and sat on the swing.

"Did you have a nice party?" Leslie asked after a couple minutes of silence.

"Yes, thanks. I'm really glad you and your parents came."

They made small talk for a few minutes, swinging gently in the cool night air. When Leslie shivered and rubbed her arms, she nearly jumped out of her skin: Jesse had put his arm around her and pulled her closer. "Warmer?"

Leslie was too startled to say anything and just nodded. There had been many times, even recently, when they sat together and it was cold. This was the first time Jesse had ever put his arm around her on his own. Eventually her voice returned and they continued talking about nothing in particular, until Leslie brought up what happened in school that day.

"What went on between you and Scott Hoager? I thought he was going to pee in his pants." Both kids broke out in laughter at the image Leslie's comment evoked. But Jesse didn't answer, he tried to ask a question of his own.

"Les, I was…uh, wandering about, uh, something," he started haltingly. Leslie noticed he was shaking a little and wondered if it was from the cold, or something else.

"What's that?"

"Huh?"

"What are you wondering about?"

"Oh, yeah. We're friends, uh, right?"

Leslie gave him a curious look and smiled. "I hope so." As if to emphasize her point she brought a hand up and softly patted his, the one resting on her shoulder.

Jesse cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I was wondering…uh…"

"Again?"

"Huh?" Jesse's voice cracked.

Leslie started giggling but stopped quickly, sensing she was making Jesse more nervous. "Sorry, Jess. You were saying…?"

Neither had really looked at the other since Jesse had put his arm around Leslie, but she could tell Jesse was nervous and felt awkward.

"Um…thanks for the books…and for coming over."

This time Leslie had to concentrate to keep her humor from showing. "You're welcome, Jess, I wouldn't have missed it."

"Les, um, are we…are we friends, or…or more than friends?" Question finished, Jesse heaved a great sigh, obviously having been terribly anxious.

Now it was Leslie's turn to word her statement correctly, and she found it was much more difficult than she thought it would be. Of course, she had always thought – always _hoped_ – that Jesse would come right out and proclaim his love for her, but that suddenly seemed like a very silly, very immature expectation.

She turned and smiled at Jesse, "Yeah, I think so."

"Think so…what?"

_Oh, good grief!_ "That we're more than friends."

"Good."

Leslie couldn't believe what she had just heard. _Good? Good?!_ He made it sound like he just received a new Bratz doll in his McDonald's Happy Meal.

_How is your toy, little boy? Oh, it was good._

She had a sudden urge to kick Jesse Aarons, hard, in the shin. Then she noticed something that changed her mind: Jesse had put his other arm around her and was turned her way. Her breath caught.

"I didn't get you anything for my birthday, Les."

Jesse was looking at her as he never had before. Leslie had a very difficult time saying something, but thought she might have squeaked out, "That's ok." She turned to face him better. Then Leslie realized she was holding _her_ breath and her heart was pounding painfully.

_It's not supposed to be like this!_ She told herself. _Or… maybe it is._

"No, it's not, I-I have one for you. You-You won't… _punch_ me or anything, will you?"

_WHAT?_ Leslie was completely befuddled, but it only lasted a second. Jesse leaned over, before she answered, and in one swift, inexperienced, slightly off-target move, kissed his best friend. Then he pulled back, cowering very slightly, and watched apprehensively for a reaction.

Leslie was too shocked to immediately return the kiss, and it would have been awkward, in any event. Jesse's kiss had landed partly on her upper lip and cheek, she wasn't even sure if his lower lip had touched her at all. But it didn't matter, _it didn't matter in the least!_ She broke into what she thought must have been a wildly insane smile, feeling happier than she ever believed she could be. Urges she had been suppressing suddenly sprung out of nowhere and it was painfully difficult to do nothing more than return a quick buss on Jesse's cheek and pull him into a tight embrace.

"Uh, so that was ok, right?"

_You've got to be kidding! _"Yes, Jess, it was _perfect_," Leslie said, and meant it, instantly disregarding the mechanical deficiencies of her friend's first kiss. She could feel his smile against her cheek.

"_Ahem!"_ came an adult sound from the yard, followed by what might have been a deep giggling noise.

Jesse and Leslie tried to stand up so fast the swing slipped out from under them and they landed painfully on the deck. Two men were standing to their right, about ten yards away, both broke into fits of laughter, howling, nearly falling over.

The kids were rescued seconds later when their mothers ran out to the porch to see what was going on and found their children on the ground, untangling arms, faces bright red. The men, now trying to control themselves, wore woefully inadequate apologetic looks. It was not difficult to figure out what had happened, either, especially when they saw both men holding a single, nearly empty bottle of what looked like Jack Daniel's Whiskey, both trying to move it out of sight, an effort made difficult by their obviously inebriated state and that they were each pulling it in the opposite direction.

Leslie had never heard her mother yell at her father like she did at that moment, neither had Jesse heard such an exchange between his parents. In seconds, Judy Burke had marched her husband off towards their house; she could be heard yelling at regular intervals for the next two or three minutes. Jack Aarons knew he was in hot water and walked, stumbled actually, into the house, pausing by the kids just long enough to wink at his son. There was a lot more shouting after he entered, though Jesse's mother took a moment to stick her head out the door, apologize for her husband, and guarantee no further interruptions.

"That was weird," Jesse said quietly, obviously affected by what had happened. He stood and offered Leslie a hand which she immediately took, coming to her feet directly in front of Jesse, just brushing against him. She shivered again, but not from the cold. The excitement of the kiss had not completely worn off her either, and she was hoping for another, but she could tell it would not be a good idea. Jesse was showing signs of acute embarrassment, and even though it was not because of her, Leslie knew it _was_ because of the kiss. She was able to break through the muddle of her emotions and realize Jesse, though having made a big step, was still not ready for… _whatever was next_, a hazy and vague stage in their friendship which even Leslie herself had trouble defining.

"Thanks, Les. This has been my best birthday ever."

"Mine, too...uh, I mean the best day."

The friends found themselves holding each other again, briefly, before Jesse broke away and sat again on the swing. Leslie followed, a sublimely happy smile on her face, hands folded in her lap. Jesse had one more thing to say.

"I told Hoager that if he ever messed with my girl again, I'd beat the crap out of him. I hope you don't mind."

"You told him...you told him...I was...your girl?" Leslie asked incredulously. _My alternate plan!_

"Yeah...well, you are, aren't you?"

Leslie closed her eyes and was suddenly certain that there was a God listening to her requests. "_Yes!_ Thank you, Jess, I...I...I…"

"You sure are stuttering a lot tonight," Jesse said, smiling. Leslie smiled back, but didn't tell him why she was so happy, figuring he would find the answer on his own.

An hour later Judy Burke heard the front door open and shut. "That you, Les?"

Her daughter's face peeked around the family room door. She was smiling. "Hi. I'm going to bed, Mom. Night." Her face disappeared.

"Just a moment, Leslie." The face reappeared. "Have a nice time?"

"It was wonderful!"

Judy found it easy to imagine why. "And did you get your wish?" she called after Leslie again, her face having disappeared a second time. Slowly, it reappeared, smiling even more.

"Yeah."

Her mother smiled, too. "Good night, sweetheart." When Leslie was well out of sight, and she'd closed her bedroom door, Judy Burke buried her face in her hands, she had to talk to her daughter.

* * *

This time there was no denying it: he was beginning to regain some control over himself, or over what he had become. The mind of thirty year old Jesse Aarons had finally begun to register long dormant sensory inputs, though not as he expected would happen. Every sensation passed through a barrier that seemed to cause him some sort of mental pain. He had the impression he was fighting to experience anything, and over time he became certain of this idea. What it was, who it was, seemed obvious: he was fighting the barriers of fear and despondency he had built over the years. There were probably other things, too, but they could wait.

The last time he had experienced something, he knew it was about Leslie Burke, an enlightenment that gave him hope to press on. He finally knew she was alive. And if she was alive, he reasoned, then he had to have been successful, at least in part, with reaching back in time to his earlier self. _This is good, isn't it?_ He pondered.

As his consciousness continued to register events, he began to understand what each one was, and it frightened him. His senses had become merged and entered into his mind through a single conduit. Feel, taste, smell, sight, and hearing were no longer distinct aspects of a bodily experience, but neither were they completely void of meaningful information. He knew that at some point he had touched Leslie and had been touched back. But whether it was a caress or a slap he had no clue. Sight was the hardest to understand because the sense came across as waves of color and smell and even a deafening noise. He likened it to trying to see an individual pixel of color on a television screen while being accosted by a deafening rock band; it was to distracting to be able to focus.

_Should I try to make myself known to…myself?_ He thought. He was quite certain he was in his earlier self. _Should I let myself die out, if I even can?_ Leslie was alive, and that was all he had set out to do. He knew his own personal life was gone, he could never exist as a corporeal person again. _Could I co-exist with m younger self_, he wondered. That idea was appalling for he feared he might destroy another life.

_No, Jesse, you've done what you set out to do._ _It's time to let go… _But how? He suspected that when the mind he existed in now was dead he would also die. _But that could be years, decades! I could try to communicate with myself, but then I'd probably get my younger self sent to Western State Mental Hospital._

Mentally sitting down to think, Jesse recalled another important part of his existence: how he got where he was. _The Dark Master…he's still here, somewhere._

An indeed he was. The hold he had placed over the older Jesse Aarons was far too powerful for the boy or adult Jesse to break. _Allowing the older Jesse to have a peak at his world had been a stroke of genius_, the malevolent being mused, _it will make my part that much easier._

Steeling back into the recesses of younger Jesse's mind, the Dark Master began to merge selected memories from both Jesses. Finished, he released another of the holds he had created to prevent the older Jesse from breaking through. In seconds he knew it had worked. He smiled.

_This is going to be so much fun._

* * *

This time the entire house heard it. In seconds, everyone but Joyce Ann was standing at Jesse and May's bedroom door; their mother holding the terrified nine year old, their father trying to wake Jesse up. The nightmare, so carefully crafted and planted was all the more powerful thanks to the events of a few hours earlier.

Mrs. Aarons sent the girls back to their room with May and strict instructions to listen for the baby. The older girls, themselves deeply shaken, nodded. The mother also noticed that it was the first time, since the accident a year before, that the two teens showed any concern for their brother.

With the others now gone, Mary Aarons went to her son's bed and sat beside her husband. Jesse seemed to be floating in and out of a terrifying dream and couldn't be woken up. When the next fit came upon him, both parents were moved to tears with frustration and concern. At the start and end of each cycle, before his screams became unintelligible, they could tell it had to do with Leslie dying: he was reliving her near death as if she _had_ actually died.

"Should we take him to the hospital?" Mary asked her husband.

"I don't know. I'm sure they could sedate him. _I…I just don't know!_" Jack pounded the headboard in frustration and the board split down the length with a loud crack. Jesse junior seemed stunned for a moment, shaken out of his dream, but then slipped into another one of the uneasy lulls between outbursts.

"Mary, go call the Burke's. Tell them what's happening and see if we can bring Jesse by on the way to the hospital. Maybe seeing Leslie will calm him."

It was the best idea either parent had had and she ran off to make the call. Bill Burke, sounding more than a little hung-over, answered and listened until his wife took the phone; she said to come right over. While Mr. Burke quickly threw on some clothes, his wife woke up Leslie, telling her that she needed to go to the family room. When her mother left to get herself dressed, Leslie, still not fully awake, stumbled into her father in the upstairs hallway. As they walked down the steps together, he told Leslie what he knew about the problem.

Minutes later Judy Burke opened the front door and Jesse's father carried his limp son into the house. Mrs. Aarons went directly to Leslie and explained what was happening.

"Leslie, we can't get him to wake up or understand us, he…he seems the be having a dream that you're dead. Would you try talking to him, please? It might calm him."

Without so much as a nod, Leslie went over to sit with Jesse and his father. The next round of terrors were about to begin, she was warned "Watch out, he thrashes about when he really gets into this." A purple bruise on Mr. Aarons' cheek proved the statement true.

Leslie repositioned herself at Jesse's head and spoke to him. His groans might have stopped for a second, but it was hard to tell. Leslie took his hands and held them tightly, feeling Jesse's muscles tense as he tried to pull away.

"Jess, it's me, Leslie. Can you hear me? I'm right here, I'm ok. Jess? I'm here." She began repeating the words, only raising her voice when Jesse started screaming. With tears now pouring down her face, too, Leslie kept trying to break through. Suddenly she did. Jesse stopped struggling and appeared to settle, muttering something unintelligible.

"Good, Jess," Leslie continued, moving her face down near his ear so only he could hear her words. "You're ok, Jess, I'm here…I'm always here for you."

Again Jesse's body seemed to relax further. He reached a hand up and found Leslie's arm. "Les?"

She smiled back. I'm here, Jess."

"_No_, you're not, _YOU'RE DEAD!_" and he pushed her away, but did not return to his hysterical state. He was just crying, curling up in his father's lap. All five of the onlookers could tell he was truly certain Leslie was dead. They looked at each other. "Mary, let's get him to the hospital," her husband finally said, unable to endure seeing his son in so much anguish.

"Jesse, wait," Bill Burke put a hand on his neighbor's shoulder. "Why don't we let Les talk to him some more? If he really believes she's dead this may be the best way to make him understand it isn't so."

Jesse looked to his wife for direction; Mary shrugged helplessly.

"Ok, Leslie, would you try again, please?" Mr. Aarons asked.

"Sure," was all she could say through her sniffles. She moved back, sitting again by her friend's head, and talked. Some of her words were muffled by her own sobs, but Mary noticed the first sign of her son's improvement after only a few seconds: Jesse's hand was searching for Leslie, as if he had to touch her to believe she was still there. Mrs. Aarons took his hand and guided it to Leslie's. She, in turn, held it and then moved it to her face. They could all tell there was recognition when Jesse moved his hand to the side of Leslie's head and touched the left side of her scar. She spoke for another minute or so and then Jesse suddenly rolled off his father's lap into a sitting position on the floor and opened his bleary eyes.

"Where am I? Les…why are you here?" He looked at his surroundings. "Oh, wait, why am _I _here?" Leslie slipped down to the floor on Jesse's right, his mother was on her son's left. When Jess turned to Leslie and hugged her, his choice for comfort was not lost on the four adults.

Judy Burke returned to bed a short while later. Jesse had fallen peacefully asleep, leaning against Leslie who was showing signs of nodding off herself.

"Bill, can we stay for a while? I want to be sure Jess is over this?" Mary asked.

"Of course, I should have offered. Let me get you some pillows and blankets." As he stood up, the other adults could tell he was not a man who held his liquor well; he weaved a bit as he walked up the stairs.

"Mary, why don't you take the truck home? I'll stay here with Jess…and," he looked down at Leslie who had fallen asleep. "It'll be dawn in a couple hours, I don't think the Burkes would mind if we stayed until then."

"Not at all," Bill Burke said, descending the stairs, struggling to hold an armful of bedding. "You go, Jesse and I will take care of the kids."

Smiling, Mary thanked their neighbor and then gave both men a stern look. "Not another drop, either of you!" And she was gone.

"That's a riot!" Bill Burke laughed mirthlessly, rubbing his head. "I spent the first two hours after we got home puking up all that JD you fed me. I'm going to be so sick later."

Jack gave one of his rare deep laughs. "Go drink a couple glasses of cold water. You'll feel like pukin' again, but if you can keep it in you'll feel better when you get up. I know."

Bill gave him a skeptical look, but took the advice. Later that day he wasn't sure he felt any better than he would have. The bottle he'd found had been given to him a decade earlier and never opened. Neither he nor his wife drank anything but an occasional beer or glass of wine, and he had no plans to have hard liquor again in this lifetime.

It was well after dawn when Judy Burke came down the stairs to an interesting scene in the family room. She quietly went back up to her office and picked up her digital camera. After adjusting the settings for the yellow-tinted morning light she napped a number of pictures of the four people sleeping on the floor, including one with a particularly high blackmail value of Jack drooling on his pillow. Her husband, she saw, was sprawled out (or passed out, she wasn't sure which) on the other side of the kids. Jess and Leslie were both on their stomachs, deep in sleep; Jesse was snoring lightly. He looked like nothing had happened to him a few hours earlier, but Judy knew it wasn't true. She _knew_ something was wrong with Jesse.

_No one has nightmares like that._

* * *

**Saturday, April 12, 2008  
**Dear Diary,

Yesterday was the best day of my life. _JESSE FINALLY KISSED ME!_ He was soooo cute - and it surprised me. And he says I'm his girl! I'd say I had died and gone to heaven, but I don't believe in heaven, not just yet. IT WAS WONDERFUL! But I have to be honest, I think Jesse needs to practice kissing a little more…hahaha. Maybe I can help?

Dad and Mr. Aarons saw us when it happened and started laughing. I've never been so embarrassed in my life, but Mom and Mrs. Aarons came out and took care of them. Jesse and I sat around for another hour, just talking. We even held hands when it was almost time for me to go home. I don't think either of us wanted the day to end. I know I didn't.

Unfortunately Jesse had a horrible nightmare a couple hours later and his parents couldn't wake him. They were really frightened and brought him over because they said he was dreaming I had drowned last year. I was able to calm him and we fell asleep on the floor of the family room with his dad and mine. When (my) Dad woke up he looked a little green, Jesse's father was giving him odd smiles, like he was enjoying my father's color.

Mom and I are off to Roanoke today to buy her maternity clothes. She said that Jesse was going to his doctor to get checked out so I won't be seeing him most of today. _And I miss him. :-(_

Gawd! I'm starting to sound like those pathetic eighth grade girls now.

Note to myself: Don't get sappy.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	12. Part 2: The Transfer

**A Life Rescued  
Part 2  
Chapter 12 – The Transfer  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story. _

May ran into the boy's ward, calling out her brother's name, earning a number of reproachful looks from the nearby nurses. She ignored them, jumping up on Jesse's bed and hugging him tightly. "Jess! Are you feeling better?"

"Hi May, I'm ok. Too bad you weren't here earlier." The little girl gave her brother an inquisitive look. "I had to wear this strange hat with about a hundred wires sticking out. Then I sat in this chair and looked at pictures and read books, listened to music, that sort of stuff."

"Did it hurt?" she asked, clearly horrified by the description of the 'hat.'

"Nope, not at all."

"You still have a brain, don't you?" asked the girl, with absolute sincerity. Jesse was tempted to say something funny but the boy in the next bed, who had been listening in, responded first.

"They didn't find anything up there, kid, just like we all suspected."

Jesse's sister huffed and said, "My name is May, not kid!"

Jesse threw a pillow at him, too, but it missed and hit the nurse in the next row in the rear. "Sorry!" he said sheepishly, but the young woman just smiled and threw the pillow back.

"Come on, May Belle, you can sit here while we talk to your brother," Mr. Aarons said, patting the foot of the bed. His second youngest daughter gave Jesse a kiss on the cheek and crawled down by his feet. When she had situated herself, she turned to her father.

"Please call me _May_, not _May Belle_, Daddy."

"You've been put in your place," Mrs. Aarons said to her husband sternly. They both laughed. And they both needed it; the day had been long and difficult. The neurosurgeon was supposed to be there shortly with results from the latest tests.

"Here you are, son," Jesse's father said, handing him one of his pads of drawing paper and a bag of pencils.

"Thanks, Dad." He opened the pad and immediately started drawing while his parents looked for another chair.

"Are you coming home tonight, Jess?"

"Don't know, May. I hope so. I feel fine." He continued drawing and his sister continued talking.

"Betcha wanna see your _girlfriend_," May said discreetly, making a kissy-face. Jesse smiled and continued his sketch.

"Is Leslie coming to see you?"

Again, Jesse smiled but didn't answer.

"Are you going to talk to me or draw?" May finally said, acting annoyed by her brother's apparent lack of attention to her. When Jesse didn't answer, she tried again. "Want me to leave?"

"No, May, stay right there." And Jesse again returned attention to his pad.

Somewhere inside May's head, she got the idea that Jesse was drawing her, so she sat completely still and smiled for him. She looked too posed, but Jesse gave her a wink and continued. A few minutes later, with May getting fidgety, Jesse scrawled his name on the bottom of the page and showed his sister the picture.

"Mommy, Daddy, look, Jess drew me!" May exclaimed, completely enthralled with the likeness.

Denny, the boy who had teased May, and was in the bed next to Jesse, got up and looked over her shoulder. "You did that?" he asked skeptically.

Jesse frowned and said sarcastically, "No, the other guy lying here drew it!"

Denny gave an embarrassed titter and returned to his book.

Mr. and Mrs. Aarons were looking at the sketch when Jesse turned back. "Jess, this is wonderful, can we hang it in your… uh, May's room?" his mother asked. Jesse shrugged; he saw the doctor approaching and wanted to get home, for a variety of reasons, most of them having to do with Leslie Burke.

The neurosurgeon waved to Mr. and Mrs. Aarons, but when Jesse started to get out of bed, he was told to stay. Feeling ignored, he started playing rock-paper-scissors with May, though he clearly was not enjoying being left out.

Jack and Mary Aarons followed the doctor into an empty waiting room and sat. The doctor did not as he started reading them his diagnosis.

"First, all the blood work and x-rays were normal. No diabetes, no leukemia, liver function good, no visible skull fractures…but we weren't expecting that." Then he dropped the clipboard on an empty chair and began to explain the EEG and other brain wave tests. "Most of the wave tests look fine…" And he paused.

Mary said it before her husband. "Except?"

"Except…well, it's not a problem, more a curiosity. Normally the Theta wave," he pointed to a red line, one among many, "and the Gamma wave," he pointed out another, "would not both show high levels of activity. Theta wave activity is highest as people are dozing off, in hypnosis, trances, daydreaming, et cetera. The Gamma wave shows high levels of mental activity, perception, problem solving, and those sorts of things."

The doctor sat down and set the EEG on the table between the three of them. "You probably see the anomaly. A person with high Theta activity, say people in a light sleep, should not have high Gamma activity, like problem solving. I certainly don't try to perform high-level brain activity as I'm falling asleep." The doctor chuckled at his own joke.

"So…is this good, bad, or what?" Jack asked.

"The answer is yes: it's good, it's bad, and we don't know what it is." He said this so completely without emotion that Jesse's parents thought he was making another bad joke.

"Come on, doc, you must have some idea."

"Mr. Aarons, the brain is the least understood organ of the human body, probably by a couple orders of magnitude. A neuron firing from point A to point B might mean a cough for you, but for me it could be a stomach ache. We have some general ideas what the different parts of the brain do, but it's not like an inflamed appendix, you can't neatly excise the offending part and sew the rest up."

"Then what about Jess? He'll just keep having these night terrors?" asked Mrs. Aarons, irritation clearly noticeable in her voice.

"I don't have an answer for you, medically. I can suggest various types of therapy for Jess to…"

"Now wait a minute, doc," said Mr. Aarons, jumping to his feet, "my boy ain't crazy. He's…normal, except for them dreams!"

"Please, Mr. Aarons, I agree, you son is certainly not crazy, as you put it, but _something_ is causing these events. And the answer could be as simple as hormones or a virus. His records show he was traumatized last year. Perhaps something is setting off a memory causing him to relive the event, but with a different outcome. When we don't know the origin of an illness, the only thing we can do, as doctors, is treat the symptoms. My recommendation is therapy." Shrugging, the doctor stood and asked them to wait for him to return with some referrals.

"Great."

"Come on, dear, this is better than a brain tumor or schizophrenia. We'll try it for a while and see how it works. It's hard to imaging this getting any worse." Mary wrapped her arms around her husband and waited for the doctor to return.

But Mr. Aarons had one other concern: "How're we gonna pay for this?"

* * *

Leslie Burke, hoping for a quiet trip into Roanoke to help her forget about the terrible night Jesse had, did not get her wish: the day was long and emotionally draining.

She and her mother did not leave until noon, and when they did, the Roanoke roads around the only large mall on the west side of the city were jammed with parents whose children were on spring break. Inside the vast building, the crowds were even worse. This was Judy Burke's first trip to a maternity store in rural Virginia and she audibly gasped when she saw the number of pregnant teens browsing at the first store they entered. Even Leslie was disconcerted. Twice she tugged on her mother's sleeve as they walked by a girl who was obviously well along and not much older than herself. After seeing the same thing in the second store, Judy could take no more and led her daughter to the woman's room where she vomited up her lunch. It took her ten minutes to regain her composure, and all the while Leslie stood by her wishing she knew why it was affecting her mother so seriously.

This was a part of their relationship that Leslie had never understood or liked. A couple years before, when she was first becoming aware of the intricacies of the parent-child relationship, Leslie had raised her voice at her mother when she wouldn't explain something.

"You're treating me like a child. I am not a baby, mother!"

Judy knew exactly what her daughter was trying to tell her: _don't hide important things from me because I'm young_. Unfortunately, she continued to act as she was accustomed, waiting for her daughter to be old enough to truly understand life. Now she could wait no longer. She declared an end to the shopping trip and returned to the car with her daughter in tow.

Judy Burke had been thinking many months about what she had to do, but primarily how it would damage her relationship with her daughter. She had to weigh the choices carefully, but it really wasn't that difficult of a decision. "Les, I'm sorry. We have to go home," she told her daughter, knowing Leslie would understand; she was a very easy child that way.

"Ok, sure, Mom. Want me to drive?"

Judy barked out a laugh, she could always count on her daughter to say the most humorously absurd things. "No, not today."

An hour later, they pulled into the drive and parked the car. Judy noticed that her husband's Mercedes was gone. _Good._ Carrying in the single bag of clothes they had purchased, Judy asked Leslie to meet her in the family room after changing. Five minutes later, with the fire burning softly and the lights dimmed a bit, Leslie began to learn why her mother was so upset.

She started by asking her daughter to respect her privacy and never reveal to anyone what she was about to say. Leslie nodded solemnly and watched her mother recline on the couch.

"Les, this past year has been…difficult for me, watching you grow and," she smiled warmly, "fall in love for the first time." Her daughter blushed and smiled demurely. "You know your father and I were about the same age as you and Jess when we became friends. We fell in love at a very young age, too. It's probably why I feel so comfortable with you two; it's also why I've had difficulty accepting the relationship." Judy could tell that her daughter didn't understand the last statement.

"I knew you were young, but you never talked about it. Am I going to find out why?"

Judy nodded. Leslie noticed she wasn't smiling.

"I met your father in seventh grade, we were both just thirteen, and we became best friends almost overnight. Neither of us had dated, no one really does at that age, but we just sort of grew together over the year. Then something happened."

Leslie had not been watching her mother during her last comments because the story was so much like her own. When she stopped talking, however, Leslie looked up and saw a very different person. Her mother was now sitting up, with her legs pulled up, arms wrapped around them and rocking a bit on the cushions. Her mascara was streaked by the tears that were flowing freely.

Something sparked inside Leslie at that moment. Between her mother's reactions in the maternity store and her initial cautiousness when she and Jesse started becoming close, she _knew_ what her mother was going to say.

_It couldn't be anything else._

She nodded for her mother to continue.

"When we…I was almost fourteen, we…I…we, your father and I had…made a terrible mistake," she stuttered, sniffling.

Leslie got up and sat with her mother. She tried to hug her but was gently put off. "Mom, you don't have to tell me, I think I know what happened."

"_YES I DO!" _she snapped harshly, "I _have to_ tell you, Les. You think you know…you _think_ you know, but you can't…you don't."

Judy was weeping freely and having a difficult time speaking. Her daughter sat patiently and waited. After a few minutes she was ready and continued.

"You might know, sweetheart, but knowing the facts is nothing like living them. We, your father and I, got pregnant." Judy stood and began pacing, words suddenly coming forth without hesitation, like a confession. "We thought we were so in love… looking back it might be that we were just terribly curious. One afternoon when my parents were off watching your Aunt Joan do something at school, he, you father, came over and…it just happened. I mean, it didn't just happen; we had been messing around for a couple weeks. Touching each other, that sort of thing, and we got carried away. We were still young enough to believe that taking our clothes off was ok, so off they came…and we wanted to try different things, things people in love did, things we saw in the movies…and then it…well, you can figure it out from there." Finished, she sat back down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Leslie was rather impressed with her mother for making it through the semi-detailed description of what happened without breaking down again. In some ways, she wasn't shocked with the admission, but that was more because of her immaturity than anything else. Just as her mother had warned, she was hearing the words, but she didn't truly understand the profound consequences of what had occurred because she hadn't lived through it.

"What happened next?" Leslie asked her mother quietly.

"I had the baby and gave him up for adoption." The statement was so emotionless that Leslie thought, at first, her mother was joking.

"You had a baby? You were only fourteen!"

"And I gave him up for adoption."

"But…but, Dad…what did he do?"

"Nothing…and everything. There wasn't much he _could_ do. Our parents got together when I told my mother I thought I was pregnant. I went to a doctor, had the test, and watched most of a year of my life fall apart. But your father and I were fortunate, Leslie, we had supportive and loving parents. They never made the mistake some parents make and force us…force _me_ to have an abortion, or get married… not that your father and I didn't think it would be fun, getting married." Judy laughed humorlessly. "The things you think you can do at that age! In some ways, your grandparents saved our lives. After the baby, I mean, after everything was over, it took a while for them to accept that Bill and I really _did_ love each other; about six years."

"_Six years?_"

"We were married at twenty-three. Between fourteen and twenty we only saw each other at school and church - we attended regularly back then - and…" Judy's face took on a guilty look, "…and when we lied and snuck out together, but that wasn't very often. Your father went to college at UVA and I was shipped off to SMU, fifteen hundred miles away. No, that's not fair, I _wanted_ to go there, and I needed to be away from your father for a while to make sure I really loved him."

"You had to go away to know you loved him?" _This_, Leslie thought sagely, _must be one of those things you have to experience to understand_.

"Yep. And it worked. I stayed at SMU for two years studying pre-med and then transferred to UVA to be back with your father. I was almost twenty and our parents had begun to realize we truly did love each other. We were married a year after we graduated and had you ten months later."

"Wow," was all Leslie could say.

"Les, I told you this hoping you and Jess wouldn't make the same mistake your father and I made." The words came out like a plea, but were misunderstood.

"We don't do that, Mom! You know I'd never do that!"

Judy smiled at her daughter and then said emotionlessly, "I know, sweetheart. I also know I told my mother the exact same thing just before your father and I, uh, had sex."

"That doesn't mean we will," Leslie shot back hotly. The enormity of all she had heard was beginning to sink in.

"I know, Les, I know. But I sometimes see your father and me when I look at you and Jess. I want to be sure you know more than just the mechanics of sex: it's not _all_ biology. You need to know that kids not much older than you…how do I say it… are engrossed with the idea of sex." She looked her daughter in the eyes. "_Often_."

For a few very uncomfortable seconds, the twelve year old felt her mother could see a part of her that she herself could not.

"Have you ever heard the term, 'a slippery slope'? It's a pretty good description of how kids approach, uh, intimacy with their partner." Leslie looked like she was about to protest again, but her mother spoke first. "I'm not telling you this just because I'm your mother; I'm telling you because I have lived through it and know what it's like. This is very important, Les! Do you know what the largest sex organ in your body is?"

Leslie gave her mother a rather disgusted look.

"It's your _brain_, Leslie, and you and Jess both have very active ones."

"Ok…so?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just…ok. I hear you," said Leslie dismissively, changing the subject. "So I have a brother out there somewhere?" Her mother nodded. "Will I ever meet him?"

"Possibly, but it would be by accident. We don't know who the adopting parents were, and the court records would be almost impossible to get opened. Do you feel like you _need_ to meet him?"

Shrugging, Leslie stood and walked back to her earlier spot on the other sofa. "I guess not. I don't know right now, Mom."

Judy noticed her daughter was beginning to withdraw into herself, something she had not shown since befriending Jesse, not that she could blame her. Searching for more words to say led to a few very uncomfortable minutes of silence. Trying to think back eighteen years, how she felt then compared with now, was difficult. But the more serious problem was not what to say, it was to keep her daughter from falling into isolation.

"Leslie, I can understand that you'd be angry with me, and disappointed, and maybe with your father, too. But, please, sweetheart, don't let this come between us. You're in the most important years of your life and I want you to be able to feel you can still come to me with anything. Can you do that? Leslie?"

A pause, then, "Yeah." But even though the word was spoken, Judy Burke was quite sure there was little conviction behind it. She felt as if everything she had rebuilt with her daughter over the past few months was gone again, and more. That feeling was confirmed a second later.

"Can I go now, Mom?"

She wanted to scream _no_; she wanted to beg her daughter to ask questions like she did for everything else she didn't understand, but she couldn't, she had probably given too much information already, Judy thought, and would not force more upon her. "Yes, of course."

Leslie stood, appearing to be somewhat dazed, and didn't give her mother a hug as she walked away, a gesture she had always done in the past when they spoke of something important.

An hour passed before Judy saw her daughter again. She was polite, but distant, and when she left the house, she didn't say where she was going.

* * *

Spring break was, as all holidays are, far too short. Little had changed visibly between Leslie and Jesse, both still feeling out what it meant to be 'together.' And Mrs. Burke's revelation to her daughter, coupled with Jesse's uncertainty about is health, prevented either child from desiring something other than the peace being in each other's presence brought. Consequently, the week was filled with long quiet walks, usually with May tagging along, quiet evenings playing games, reading, writing, or drawing, and talks about what they wanted to do over the summer.

The other significant event, occurring their last day of the break, was Easter. Again, Jesse invited Leslie to join his family and again she accepted. The April weather had been steadily improving and Sunday promised to be the best day yet. The Virginia piedmont usually enjoyed a few weeks of excellent weather before the summer heat and humidity set in, and the second half of their spring break was particularly spectacular. Warm breezy days in the sixties and low seventies; nights in the fifties, where you could leave your windows open to the mountain air scented with the new growth of grass and wide varieties of flora. No annoying insects, and, most of all, the delight of neighbors who, having been cooped up all winter, were again outside and enjoying all the land had to offer. It was unfortunate, everyone agreed, that this period lasted but a few weeks.

With the promise of good weather, Jesse's family planned a picnic at the church following Easter Mass and invited the Leslie's family to join them, making a point that they needn't attend the services with their daughter. The invitation was immediately accepted, though Judy Burke saw a brief look of disappointment in her daughter at the news.

As with the previous year, Jesse and his father picked Leslie up Sunday morning, but this year they started off much earlier so they could find seating. All that morning Jesse had been griping about having to wear a coat and tie, but he fell silent when he saw Leslie in her skirt and blouse, not at all looking like her usual tomboy self. A wistful look swept across the boy's face as he realized his friend always wore her best clothes for Easter and Christmas, even though she celebrated neither. He wished, for purely nonsectarian reasons, that there were many more Christmases and Easters each year.

This year Jesse had no embarrassing moments offering Leslie the Gesture of Peace, or holding her hand for the Lord's Prayer. He would politely hold the hymnal for each song and noticed that she had a beautiful singing voice for the few hymns she knew. During the interminable sermon, they held hands and at least attempted to appear attentive.

When services ended, the Aarons and their guest exited the church and found Mr. and Mrs. Burke waiting for them at one of the many picnic tables kept for just such occasions. It was fortunate, too, that Judy and Bill had arrived early and selected a table in the shade, for it seemed most of the parish had had the same idea for the day. This was by no means unusual among the close-knit communities in rural Virginia. When Ellie mentioned that she remembered attending picnics with her baby sister, Brenda, and her parents, everyone learned that the Aarons had been very active in the parish at one time. But when Jesse tried to find out why they had stopped, his father politely, but firmly, directed the conversation elsewhere.

An hour after services were finished, picnicking families were still arriving at the church and the crowd had swelled to over three hundred, an impressive number of Catholics anywhere in the Baptist stronghold of southwestern Virginia. As the morning passed into afternoon, the families had gravitated to their usual groups: parents, grandparents and very young children talking together around tables, teens off flirting or harassing others in their age group, and the eight to twelve year olds playing games and generally running amok. Jesse and Leslie found themselves between these last two parties, though Leslie's clothing made running difficult.

As the afternoon progressed, Jesse retreated to a recently abandoned picnic table at the edge of the church property and began to sketch the scene. Leslie sat nearby reading a book. As Jesse moved from one knot of partiers to another, something caught his eyes. At his parent's table, there was another family standing around and speaking with his mother and father and the Burkes. The father wore military fatigues and the mother held Joyce Ann. There were two other children, also: a girl whose age he couldn't guess, and a boy a little older. Trying to concentrate on drawing the additional people at the table was becoming difficult; the two older kids were acting up behind their parent's backs. The adults seemed to be speaking mostly with the Burkes, and mostly with Mrs. Burke.

"Hey, Les, who's that talking to your mom and dad?" Jesse asked.

"I don't know, they don't look familiar. Wanna go and see?"

Before Jesse had the chance to answer, Mrs. Burke stood and called them over. The two older visiting children, who had been with their parents moments before, had vanished.

Walking over together, Leslie made an observation. "Jesse, that lady _does_ look familiar."

Jesse agreed, "Yeah, she does…" Before he made the connection, Leslie's mother spoke up.

"Leslie, Jess, this is Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, they've just moved to the area."

Leslie held out her hand to greet the new family. When she turned to Mrs. Jacobs they recognized each other. "_I know you!_" both said together in surprise.

Jesse, who had just greeted Mr. Jacobs, suddenly recalled a lady at the beach the previous summer. Just then the two Jacobs children ran up, both the boy and girl went directly to Leslie. As Jesse's eyes opened, he had a painful sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Hi Leslie," the boy said. "I can't believe this!"

"Yeah, hi Tom." She glanced over at Jesse to see if he recognized their pal from Virginia Beach. "Jess, remember Tom?"

Jesse ventured a quick glance at Mrs. Burke before answering. "Yeah, sure, hi Tom. You guys are visiting here?" he managed to said evenly, in spite of the fact that he suddenly felt like punching someone.

"No, we're moving in right now."

"Super!" Jesse tried to sound like he meant it, though he dragged out the final consonant too long. Then he had another terrible thought. "So, where're you guys going to school?"

_Please not Lark Creek. Please not Lark Creek. Please not Lark Creek. _

Tom turned to his parents. "What's the name of the school again, Mom?"

Mrs. Jacobs mussed her son's hair, laughing. "Lark Creek, Tommy. Is that where you two go?" she asked Jesse and Leslie.

"Yes," they answered together, Leslie with more enthusiasm than her friend. Much more.

Mrs. Jacobs turned back to Leslie's mother. "This has been wonderful, Judy, I'm so glad I recognized you. Unfortunately, we have to get home to finish unpacking. I'm afraid it hasn't been a very fun birthday for Tommy, with all this moving and whatnot."

The adults wished Tom happy birthday, but what caught Jesse's attention was Leslie.

"Happy Birthday, Tom, and welcome to Lark Creek," she said, and gave him a quick hug.

"Thanks!" he said smiling cheerfully.

_Yeah, thanks, Les,_ Jesse muttered to himself bitterly.

"Well!" Bill Burke exclaimed brightly to Jesse and Leslie, "Isn't that great? You have two new friends at your school."

Leslie's parents told their daughter to be home by eight, the next day being a school day, and no amount of pleading would change their mind, so she set off for the Aaron's house after dinner to spend a short hour with her friend. Jesse was on the porch swing when Leslie arrived a few minutes later; she thought he looked bored.

"What's up? Someone dye your underpants pink?"

"Oh, ha-ha, very funny," said Jesse, peevishly suppressing the humor he actually felt.

Leslie sat at the far end of the swing and leaned back length-wise, draping her legs over Jesse's lap. "Why are you so sour tonight? Ew, Jess! You have a tick on your arm." He looked down and saw the parasite trying to burrow into his arm, and ignored it. "Aren't you going to get rid of it?"

"Yeah, ok," he said, untwisting it and offering it to Leslie who jumped up and off the swing.

"No thanks, crush it, or whatever you're supposed to do."

When he did, Leslie sat back down, but didn't resume her previous posture. They sat quietly for a while, but Leslie knew something was wrong. "Any headaches today?" Jesse shook his head no. "Did you finish the drawing at the picnic?"

"No, I was interrupted by our new _friends_," he replied sarcastically.

Leslie looked at him funny and recalled the beach eight months earlier. "_Jesse Aarons_, are you _jealous_?" She didn't expect the answer she got.

"_Yes!_"

And Jesse didn't expect the response to his answer. Leslie moved over next to him and gave him a little peck on his cheek and then whispered, "I thought you said I'm your girl."

"Uh, yeah, so?"

"Well…I am, so don't forget it," and she playfully slapped him on his chest. Jesse smiled and made to return the movement, but then stopped himself and blushed.

The rest of their time together that evening was much more pleasant than it had started. Jesse was still quiet, but for a very different reason. He was thinking about what Leslie's mother had told him at the beach the previous summer. It was making more sense now.

They also spoke about the following weekend when Jesse would start meeting with a number of potential drawing teachers. His earlier enthusiasm seemed lessened, but he wouldn't give any reason and Leslie didn't pursue an explanation. Shortly before eight, Jesse walked Leslie home. They held hands part of the way, but he just gave her a quick smile and wave when they parted; his mind was focused on things he could not yet understand completely.

The next two weeks at school flew by with the biggest event being Ms. Edmonds telling Jesse she was getting married the following spring to the fifth grade math teacher. It wasn't much of a surprise as the two had been seen together whenever their class schedules permitted it. Jesse did have to battle with the voice in his head he had heard little of in the past four months, _Can Leslie come with us today?_ And the one migraine it seemed to set off.

The Jacobs children also appeared at school the first day back after spring break. Until he learned that Tom was not in his and Leslie's homeroom, Jesse was tense and irritable, but was able to hide it from Leslie. He also learned that Tom's little sister, Grace, was only a year behind them. When he told Leslie this, she smiled and asked if she should be jealous. Jesse understood the message perfectly. Some days he would see Leslie talking to Tom between classes or as they passed at lunch and he was learning quickly how to control his own envious thoughts.

Over the last weekend in April, Jesse met with three local artists about lessons. At each he received the same skeptical look he had received from Mr. Burke, Mrs. Mason, and Dr. Gilbert when he displayed his ever increasing portfolio. And it infuriated him each time. He felt there was little difference between the three, one man and two women, even their rates were almost the identical. He finally chose the man, Tim Baker, who had lived in the Roanoke area his entire life except for six years in Paris. He was a well-known local artist and Jesse felt the most comfortable with him.

Mr. Baker, however, expressed the same hesitation Dr. Gilbert had months earlier: he said, after seeing Jesse's work, that there may not be a whole lot he could teach him. But Jesse believed he could, especially with anatomy and colors, and they agreed on a price and time for the weekly lessons. When he withdrew the money from his bank account to pay for the first session, Jesse felt proud to be able to pay his own way.

* * *

It took the older Jesse weeks to recover, and he wasn't even sure what had happened. One moment he was certain he was reaching his younger self and could even feel Leslie's presence, the next he was in pure agony. He saw Leslie drowning again, but the nightmare was different. She kept coming back to life and dying again, as if to give him hope and then pull it away, over and over. It seemed like everything he experience of her ended in grief.

He had also come to notice something that did not agonize his mind, even in his most tortured moments he sensed his own younger self's presence. He clung to it, trying to link the two minds together even though he hadn't the slightest idea how.

* * *

The month of May seemed to fly by as Jesse started his art lessons, counseling for his nightmares, and schoolwork began to wind down a little. He was enjoying being with Leslie more than ever, and neither felt any need to hide their closer relationship – not that there _was_ much to hide – they were still not really engaging in or displaying any overt signs of affection, especially at school. Both agreed it would cause them undesired grief.

In early May, Mrs. Aarons unexpectedly stopped by a Moto Photo with her son after his first art lesson and had ID photos taken, she said he needed them for access to the local art museum where Mr. Baker worked. His mother grimaced at the picture; it wasn't one of his better ones. Jesse forgot about the side trip for a few weeks and didn't notice that Mr. Baker never said anything about the museum.

The Aarons family was also delighted with the news in early May that Jesse Aarons Senior was promoted to a supervisory position at John Deere. The move offered much more responsibility and little extra pay, but it did include health benefits that were sorely needed. The weekly therapy Jesse was about to start for his nightmares would be covered. The mid-spring nights had been marred by only one terror, and its intensity was nowhere near the one that had occurred following his birthday. Yet Jesse noticed his own apprehension some nights, especially if he had difficulty falling asleep.

Towards the end of the month, Leslie shared with Jesse her family plans for the summer. To her best friend's disappointment, she informed him they would not be returning to Virginia Beach because her father was going on a book signing tour for a couple weeks. This was not a complete surprise, however, as Jesse knew Mrs. Burke's baby was due in late October, but he had still been hoping for a few days away from his family, at least as much as the time with Leslie.

Early June marked another event for Jesse's family: Ellie graduated from Lark Creek High School – barely. It was not her grades that nearly caused apoplexy for her parents, but her accidental involvement with a classmate who was being trailed by the county sheriff's department for possession and distribution of cocaine. During the Senior Prom, Ellie had accepted a ride to a nearby friend's house from the user/dealer, not knowing of his record. The sheriff pulled them over, concerned that he was leaving town, and arrested both of them. The boy refused to say anything that might have spared Ellie trouble. She had to spend the rest of the night in the county jail while a number of school officials – and ones she had not been particularly pleasant to over the years – vouched for her character. Ultimately, it was a drug test that won her her freedom the next day. Nothing could help the boy who was arrested and nearly ruined her life. More than anything else in her life, this event humbled and humiliated the arrogant, stuck-up teen, and she slowly began to turn her attitude and behavior around. For Jesse it couldn't have happened soon enough. And even Brenda's manners began to improve. It seemed that without the support of her older sister she didn't want to bear all the blame for the ill winds that blew amongst the Aarons family.

In mid-June, two days before Jesse and Leslie were to finish sixth grade, the school held its annual awards ceremony. Leslie finished second in her class in Pre-Algebra and first in English. Jesse won top awards in Art and third place in math, much of that thanks to the tutoring Leslie had given him throughout the year. Overall, Leslie completed the year earning honors for her grades overall. Jesse, who never managed to raise his English grade above a C, just missed making the A/B honor roll.

And suddenly the summer holidays were upon them.

Jesse and Leslie had started jogging two or three days a week when the weather was consistently nice, and changed it to a daily routine as soon as school let out. They enjoyed the quiet of the early mornings together and experienced, more through necessity than choice, the joy of being together and not feeling a need to make small talk. Not that they did not talk, sometimes they would sit on Jesse's porch swing for hours talking about anything that came to their mind. In many ways they had reverted back to _being in like_, more than _being in love_, something Leslie wanted desperately to talk to her mother about but could not bring herself to, yet.

On the twenty-eighth of June, Jesse's parents told their son they needed to speak with him. He wasn't alarmed; they appeared neither upset nor worried about anything. They led him down the drive towards the Burke's house where they met Leslie and her parents. Jesse might have started worrying if Leslie had not had a look of absolute delight on her face. Mrs. Aarons took an envelope from her purse and handed it to her son, and then she and her husband took a few steps back and let Leslie's parents speak.

Bill began by explaining why they were not going to the beach that summer, and how sorry he was, knowing what a wonderful time he, Leslie, and Mrs. Burke had had the year before. This Jesse knew, but he was being distracted by his best friend who appeared about to burst with some unexpected news of great importance. Her parents would laugh whenever she would say, _"Tell him! Tell him!"_ And she was doing it frequently. Jesse looked behind him and saw both of his parents smiling in an odd way.

"Jess," Mr. Burke continued, "My publishers changed the book signing plans and we're wondering if you would like to join us." Leslie had finally stopped fidgeting and was watching Jesse intently.

All Jesse could manage was a quick, quizzical glance at his parents, a shrug, and a cautious, "Sure, I, uh, guess. Is it like a few days in Washington, or something?"

"No, not exactly, Jess," Mrs. Burke said. "It's three weeks, and a lot farther that Washington."

Jesse _was_ becoming interested now, thinking they might tour some east coast cities, maybe even up to New York or down to Miami, but he didn't set his hopes too high.

"Jess, my publishers offered to pay your way in lieu of your share of the royalties on the book. We're going to be in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Carlisle, Liverpool, Northampton, Birmingham, Cardiff, Bristol, Bath and end in London." With the rapidity at which he spoke the city names, it was obvious Mr. Burke had memorized them. And Jesse still didn't fully understand what was being offered until he heard _London_.

"England? You want me to go to _England_…_with you?_" he asked in stunned incredulity.

"Look in the envelope, Jess," his mother said. He pulled out a passport.

"You knew?"

Mary Aarons nodded and then pointed behind him. Unable to stand still any longer, Leslie stepped up to Jesse and took his hands. "You _do_ want to go with us, Jess, don't you? _Please!_" She hardly need have asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure, of course. But…" He looked back at his parents again. "I can't afford something like this, Les."

"Jess, it's pretty much paid for. Like I said, your share of the royalties will cover everything."

Jesse thought he had heard Mr. Burke say something about royalties before. "What are these royalties from? _You_ wrote the book."

"And you signed the contract for the illustrations without reading the fine print, I think," Mr. Burke said with a smile. "When a book is sold, a portion of the price goes to the store that sold it, most of it goes to the publisher, some goes to the writer; and a small amount goes to the illustrator or illustrators, if there are any. You earned one twelfth of the illustrators' share, and you will continue to earn it as long as the book sells. It's not a whole lot, but enough. But I'm going to make you work, too," he finished with a smile. "As an illustrator you'll have to sit with me at times and autograph the books, too."

Jesse's head was spinning and he felt like he was in a wonderful dream. It was the happiest day of his life. The idea of going away from Lark Creek was _great_, going to England was _fantastic_, and doing it with Leslie was more than he had ever dreamed would happen to him in a lifetime. He knew he must look terribly silly, standing quietly, probably with a goofy grin on his face, not that he cared. But he also knew that it was his drawing that made this possible and Leslie that made his talent burst into something wonderful. At that moment, more than any in the year and a half since he'd met Leslie Burke, or the six months since their magical Christmas, or the three since he first kissed her, Jesse Aarons wanted to hold his friend close, and hold her forever. But he knew that wasn't a good idea so he settled for pulling her into a tight, but brief hug, and letting his smile give answer to the Burke's offer.

End of Part 2

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	13. Part 3: The Tour

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 13 – The Tour  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story. _

**Saturday, July 5, 2008  
**Dear Diary,

In a couple hours we'll be gone. I can't believe it's really happening. Jess's been going crazy packing and repacking. He's worse than Mom. I thought he would cry when he misplaced his passport the other day, but he had packed it by accident. I found it between his socks and t-shirts.

Mom's worried about the baby, her being so close to the due date. The doctor said she should be fine as long as she takes it easy, which is fine with me. It means she won't be tagging along so much.

I have to leave you here, sorry, but I'll send postcards every day. Well, maybe not every day. Bye.

* * *

Judy Burke and Mary Aarons walked arm-in-arm down the path by the creek, sharing memories of their earlier pregnancies and deliveries. In the eighteen months since they met, both women, and particularly Mary, had enjoyed a blossoming of their warm and loving friendship. Sparked by a near tragedy, and fueled by their mutual desire for _intelligent_ adult female companionship, a commodity sparse in their somewhat isolated community, the friends were spending an increasing amount of time together.

Judy, almost six months pregnant, was just now beginning to show. She explained to her neighbor and friend that Leslie had 'set back' until the last two months, also. Her first child, she added, was more typical because she was so young and not fully-grown. Mary had listened to the amazing story of her friend's first child when she was only fourteen, and praised her for the strength and courage she had shown to carry through with the pregnancy.

"I have to be honest with you, Judy, if you look at Ellie's birthday and our wedding anniversary, you'll see a gap of less than nine months."

"Yes, I suppose we'll both rot in Hell for our sin." Judy laughed, intending the comment as a joke, but it prompted Mary to voice a question she had been contemplating for a number of months.

"You really don't believe in God any more? How can you find meaning in life without Him?"

"I can't say, Mary. Since _Fourteen_," Judy's euphemism for her pregnancy at that age, "I've felt nothing for a God. I went through the motions for my parents, but… Maybe, now that I'm an adult and can think more clearly, I should re-explore religion. Having the security we enjoy dissuades me from the need for God, I think. Pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

The two had spoken little about faith and God over the months, but Mary was afraid to push the subject. The fact that they allowed their daughter to attend Mass with her family was a good sign. _At least they consent to Leslie making up her own mind_. But she knew that without parental support _and_ participation it was unlikely the girl would build a lasting faith. But she had hope. They now spoke about what was about to take place: the tour.

"You'll take care of my Jess for me, won't you?" Mary asked with a grin; she already knew the answer.

"I'm sure they'll be fine. But, yes, I will." Judy felt Mary squeeze her arm gently in appreciation.

"And Jude, you will keep an eye on the two of them, right?" she asked again, stopping by the spot where Leslie had nearly died fifteen months earlier.

"Yes, we'll make sure they don't run off to Venice and elope." Both women laughed.

"Jess doesn't say it, but Leslie means so much to him. His eyes light up whenever he talks about her. You can't imagine what it was like for him before they met."

"Oh, I don't know, Mary, Leslie was a real loner, too. Those bizarre outfits she wears never helped her make friends." Judy paused for a second. "She really loves your son."

This was something Mary had suspected but never heard voiced. "Loves or likes?"

"Certainly likes, and as well as she understands the word, she loves him. Have you seen them together when they don't know they're being observed?" Judy looked over to the creek, feeling the significance of their location. "It's quite touching."

Mary _had_ noticed some of what her friend was referring to. "Yes, and May is convinced they'll be married any day now, I think she wants Leslie as a sister." Again, both women laughed. "Judy, please be…I mean, try not to let them get into a position… _Oh damn!_"

"I know, Mary. Believe me, _I know!_ You're talking to the expert in screw-ups. No pun intended. We'll be careful, and they're going to have plenty to keep them busy."

They walked on a little further before Mary spoke again. "Jude, how much did you and Bill have to put out for Jess to go with you? No, don't deny it; if Jess's share of the royalties was enough to cover the trip then the book would have sold millions of copies. I know it's on the Best Seller list, but…"

"Three point two, Mary," her friend cut in, stopping yet again.

"Sorry?"

"It's sold three point two million copies since April. The Times Best Seller List doesn't count overseas sales. That's why were headed to England, it's as popular there as here. I think they're looking for another Jackie Roller." Both women laughed at the reference to the most famous British author of the past half-century. "I think they'll have to wait for the next book."

"Ok, I'm sorry, Judy. I just didn't want Jack to…well, another hospital bill thing. He hasn't been this happy in years, since before Jess was born, I think. I don't want that ruined."

"I understand. To be honest, Mary, Jess's share of the royalties covered more than eighty percent of the cost, the publishers forked out the rest at Bill's request. He convinced them that having both of the illustrators around would help sales."

Mary swatted a horsefly off her arm. "Ok, thanks for telling me. I can't image being away from him three weeks. It'll be different around here."

Judy looked at her friend. "Do _try_ to enjoy it. We shouldn't be the only ones having fun."

"Well, I still have the girls…"

In the distance the women heard the car horn honking. Mary pulled her friend into another embrace and repeated her plea. "Take care of him."

"_Don't worry!_ We'll be fine. Come on, you need to tell your son goodbye."

* * *

"Ok, Jess, got everything?"

It was nearly time to leave and Jesse was feverishly triple checking everything he had in his two old, battered suitcases. May and Joyce Ann were standing at the door, the toddler offering a half-eaten cookie to her only brother.

"_YES, DAD!_ I _did_ use the list Mom made."

His father ignored his son's claim and started reading off everything, Jesse responding with increasing impatience at every affirmative response, until he hit a negative one. Off in the kitchen they heard the phone ring and Ellie ran in with a message a few seconds later.

"It was Leslie, Jess, she says it's time."

Jesse heaved a sigh of relief, though he was happy his father had discovered the forgotten item. Not that he thought it would be difficult finding toothpaste in the British Isles.

"Ok then, son, let's go. May, you want to go, too?" She responded by jumping on her father's back.

Jesse was surprised to see his other sisters waiting for him at the truck. Ellie was holding Joyce Ann, too. "Have a good time, Jess," she said, and gave him a little hug. She looked like she might actually miss him, or wish that she was going in his stead, he wasn't certain which. Brenda just waved. She had been terribly jealous of her brother since their parents broke the news of his imminent travels the previous weekend.

Jesse hugged and kissed Joyce Ann. "See you soon, Joycey."

And with that, the three climbed into the truck and drove the few hundred yards to the Burke's house.

Following another round of _Did you remember this?_ and _Did you bring that?_ Jesse waved goodbye to his parents and gave his little sister a long, warm hug. "See you in a few weeks, May." She started crying and ran to her mother; Jesse noticed _her_ eyes were pooling, too.

The kids climbed into the back of the car while their parents said goodbye. And then they were off.

Flying out of Dulles International Airport meant a four hour drive to Loudoun County. On the way they stopped in Harrisonburg and dined at a little kitchen on the town square called _Jess's Quick Lunch_. Bill swore by their hot dogs and milk shakes. Jesse liked the food but the females protested and they made another short stop for burgers and salads as they headed out of town.

Arriving at the airport, through snarled traffic from the ever-present construction, Bill dropped the other three off at the British Airways entrance with the luggage and took the car to long-term parking. It was a half-hour before the shuttle bus returned him to his party. The four had eight bags to check in and each had a carry-on: Bill and Judy had laptops, the kids their school backpacks with books and other things to keep them occupied when they weren't doing something directly related to travel. No one thought there would be much down time, but they came prepared. Jesse had even brought a small sketch pad and a few pencils. After waiting in the British Airways line for over an hour, their bags were checked, passports scanned, and boarding passes issued. Finally unencumbered, they headed towards one of the huge mobile lounges that would take them to the international terminal far across the taxiway.

When they exited the bus, they walked by a large group of teens who appeared to be on some type of school sponsored tour. Just as they passed, a loud voice cried out, "_Bill Burke! Mr. Burke!_" Jesse stopped, thinking Mr. Burke would, too, but only Leslie ran back to him and calmly took his hand to lead him forward.

"What are…?" Jesse started to say.

"Shhh, don't say anything and don't look back." Jesse stopped his head mid-turn.

"Why? She knows your father."

"Jess, _everyone_ knows my father. This happens all the time."

Jesse stopped again, nearly causing Leslie to fall. In the distance he saw Mr. and Mrs. Burke still strolling on, albeit faster than seemed necessary. "What'd'you mean? This never happens in Lark Creek."

"Lark Creek? Jess, why do you think we moved there?" Leslie snapped back, in a not altogether friendly manner. "No one in Lark Creek reads, so no one in Lark Creek knows my father." She pulled him on.

He went, but there was something in the tone of her voice, and her choice of the words she spoke that hurt. _No one in Lark Creek reads…_ It was an indictment of their home. It was also true. Even having been friends with Leslie almost two years, and with her influence on him, and her parents' profession, Jesse ignored reading, except when necessary. The Christmas gift of books she'd given him still lay largely untouched seven months later. He stopped resisting and let himself be led on, but let go of Leslie's hand; he felt like she was declaring some sort of superiority over him, and it hurt. Leslie ran forward to be with her parents leaving Jesse to catch up on his own. He didn't rush. It was the first time he could remember that Leslie had said something deliberately hurtful, or at least about something that meant a great deal to him.

The excitement of the adventure, however, soon made Jesse forget his annoyance and pain. Walking down the long concourse, he passed a number of international airlines, many with their nationals waiting for a plane trip home: KLM, El Al, Lufthansa, ANA, and Swiss Air. He felt like he was walking through the United Nations and became so engrossed with the people he walked right by the British Airways gate and his party, who were settling into the last few seats facing away from the crowds. Only when he reached a dead end two gates further down did he realize he had become lost.

"Looking for someone?" He felt a tap on his back. It was Judy Burke. "You look a little lost, are you ok?"

Blushing slightly, Jesse apologized and followed the Mrs. Burke back to the seat they had saved for him. Leslie was already reading a book and gave him a little smile and wave, as if nothing had happened. Sitting down, confused by his friend's actions, Jesse took out the small sketching pad he purchased for the trip, moved to a seat opposite, and started drawing. He drew on and lost track of time until he heard a heavily accented English woman's voice announcing the start of boarding. Almost forty minutes had passed. Looking up he saw Leslie watching him draw, but her eyes were distant and said nothing to him.

Their flight was scheduled to leave at ten-fifteen, or in about an hour, and arrive in London six hours after departure. With the four hour time zone change it would place them on the ground at about eight o'clock in the morning, local time. Following a brief layover at Heathrow Airport, they would fly British Midlands Airway to Edinburg, the first stop on the tour.

Bill organized everyone with their tickets, boarding passes, and passports, and they were soon joining the small crowd of fellow passengers heading towards the gate. The business class seating was a far cry from what Jesse had expected, based on his images of cramped coach seating which he had seen in movies. The seats were not what you would call wide, but they were comfortable. Each had a stow-away table for eating, or whatever else you wanted. Leslie sat in the window seat to his right and her parents in the two seats immediately behind them. They each also had a small TV screen built into the back of the seat in front of them where they could watch a limited selection of movies, or even follow the aircraft's progress as it crossed the ocean. Leslie watched her friend in amusement as he played with the controls. He finally turned the screen off and watched the steward and stewardesses prepare the plane for departure.

Never having flown, Jesse was totally unprepared for the unusual flight characteristics of a 747. High above the runway, with the plane's engines straining at full power, they seemed to be hardly moving. Then he felt the nose lift and a moment later a swooping sensation terrified him as the aircraft lifted into the air. Straining to his right and leaning in front of Leslie to see out the window, he felt her hand cover his. "It's ok, Jess, it smoothes out soon."

"How many times have you flown?" he asked, his voice a bit shaky.

"A lot; maybe five or six. But this is my first trip overseas, too." Leslie seemed to have turned back into her usual friendly self, it settled Jesse enough that he could relax and enjoy the varied sensations of flight. Ten minutes later the Captain announced that they would be turning the seatbelt sign off shortly and passengers could walk about the cabin.

"We can look around? What do they have?" Jesse asked, as if he believed he might find a mini-mall and movie theater in the baggage compartment.

Leslie laughed, "Not much, silly. But you can stretch your legs and use the bathroom, if you need to."

Utterly amazed, Jesse had never thought of a bathroom on an airplane, but he quickly realized it made sense. _Someone would have to _go_ on a six hour flight._ "Show me?" he asked Leslie.

"Come on." She unbuckled her seatbelt and took his hand. "We're going to visit the bathrooms," Leslie told her parents very seriously. Both were heavily involved with their laptops.

A few minutes later, Jesse emerged from one of the cubicles that passed for bathrooms. He looked both amazed and concerned. "How do they…? What do they do with the…?" he asked, blushing in embarrassment.

"It all goes into a tank on the plane, Jess. Despite what Scott Hoager says, it's not dropped out into the sky to form frozen green chunks." Jesse heaved a sigh of relief. Leslie gave him a funny look. "Wash your hands?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

Her response was to offer him her hand and stroll towards the back of the plane. He felt like he was receiving the grand tour. When they returned to their seats a few minutes later, Mr. Burke was just getting up to look for them. Jesse explained his trip to the toilet, the rear of the plane, the galley, ("They call the kitchen a galley on an airplane, did you know that?") and the forbidden stairs to the first class section. Bill sat down, smiling. "Why don't you two get settled? They're serving dinner soon and then we'll try to get some sleep."

Jesse's face broke into an even bigger smile. Even though he had had something to eat at the airport, the idea of eating a meal on an airplane enthralled him. Leslie tried to temper his expectations. "Jess, airline food isn't the greatest," she said; but it did not seem to dissuade his enthusiasm in the slightest. And after they had been served, Jesse sat back with an expression of utter satisfaction. Leslie had to admit the British Airways food was better than any other she'd had.

With the meal served and cleared, and midnight approaching, Mr. and Mrs. Burke instructed the kids to get some sleep. Jesse had learned quickly that the constant humming of the four powerful turbofan engines were the perfect background to block out the passenger cabin's ambient noises. Mr. Burke showed him and Leslie how to recline their seats for sleeping, use the eyeshades, earplugs, and handed both a blanket and pillow. Then he set himself down and dropped quickly off to sleep with his wife.

During dinner, the kids had discovered that the armrest between their seats folded up. With the seats now reclined, and a little maneuvering, they could angle their bodies to an _almost_ comfortable prone orientation. It did require that Jesse allow his friend to lay closer to him than he expected, but he figured that if she didn't mind, he wouldn't. With their bodies just inches apart, Leslie reached back and took Jesse's hand, wishing him good night, and drifted off to sleep.

Jesse lay awake a while longer, waiting for his friend to fall asleep. When he heard her breathing slow, and felt her body relax, he untwined their fingers and set Leslie's arm in front of her. He knew that if she slept any length of time with her arm in that position, _it_ would be asleep when _she_ awoke. He unconsciously set his hand on her arm and gave it a little squeeze, as if he were bidding her one final good night. She stirred and mumbled something that sounded like 'cola,' and settled back to sleep. Making one final adjustment to his pillow and blanket, Jesse lowered his shades, put in his earplugs, and drifted off to sleep.

Three hours later, and with less than two more remaining in the air, the kids were awoken by a steward asking them what they wanted for breakfast. Jesse answered, "More sleep," but the man was annoyingly persistent and soon he and Leslie were sitting up, exchanging bleary-eyed looks of disgust.

"You two want to see something beautiful?" Bill Burke asked from behind. "Come with me."

Instantly awake, Jesse slipped on his sneakers and asked Leslie how her father could be so conscious at two in the morning; she shrugged, and then banged her forehead on the reclined seat in front of her, earning an unpleasant grunt from its occupant.

Following Mr. Burke, the kids were led to one of the large doors aside the forward galley on the opposite side of the cabin. "Look there, on the horizon."

Side-by-side, Jesse and Leslie scanned the horizon and were met with a spectacularly dazzling sight. In the distance, with the sun just above the horizon, was a line of dark green sandwiched between the dark blue water and the yellow-white star.

"That's Ireland. And somewhere down there, about eight hundred years ago, the Burke's had a castle. Maybe I'll go looking for it when I get tired of writing." Mr. Burke put his arm on the two kids' shoulders and let them watch the sight.

"It's beautiful," Leslie said quietly.

Jesse yawned. "Uh-huh. Why is the sun up, Mr. Burke? It's only two in the morning."

"We're traveling east, Jess, so we have to set our clocks ahead four hours to London time. It's really six in the morning. In Scotland the sun will rise even earlier."

Silently, Jesse wondered if the surprises would ever stop.

With a tired look, Leslie straightened up and pulled Jesse back towards their seats. Passing the bathrooms, Jesse pleaded necessity and ducked in. He exited shortly with another amazed look on his face.

Breakfast was in the English style, meaning toast, eggs, and a greasy tubular object they called _sausage_. When Leslie stabbed at it with her fork, it slid across her plate and a miniature gusher of some translucent fluid squirted out, just missing her sleeve. In what appeared to be a well practiced move, she again stabbed at the object, successfully this time, and handed it back to her father. At least, Jesse assumed it was her father. The only other explanation for it disappearing from the fork was that it had slid off and landed in some poor passenger's coffee, or lap. Jesse looked back and between the seats and was happy to find it had indeed found a new home in Mr. Burke's mouth.

Almost an hour later, following the meal, the kids went back to the same exit and looked again out the window. They were now crossing a narrow body of water. The green shores of Ireland had passed while they ate breakfast. Ahead of them was England. Jesse felt the excitement of the journey rekindle within him and he was no longer tired or sleepy. Leslie was resting the head against his arm, watching him.

She smiled brightly. "Excited?"

"Yes! It's like a dream…a very good dream. You?"

"I would be if I weren't so tired. Let's go back to our seats." Taking Jesse's hand, she pulled him forward but let him have her window seat so he could watch the landing.

As they descended into Heathrow, they were treated to a spectacular sight. The flight turnaround at airport was in a shambles due to an accident on the M25 that kept many airport workers from getting to their jobs. The plane had to make two circuits of the city offering the window passengers an airborne tour. They cruised down the Thames River twice, at only a couple thousand feet, and saw the heart of the city. Mr. and Mrs. Burke, who had been to London twice before, pointed out a number famous buildings and sights. Jesse's face was again plastered to the window in awe. The Tower of London, the Tower Bridge, The London Eye, Westminster Abbey, the Parliament Buildings, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, and other historic landmarks could be easily identified. Jesse then broke the rules and quickly switched seats with Leslie so she could see the sights on the second go-around.

The landing was hard and bouncy, not at all what Jesse had expected after the comparatively easy takeoff six hours earlier. It took almost another half-hour to taxi to the gate, by which time Leslie's parents were voicing concerns about making their connecting flight. But the British efficiency at customs, and moving passengers to their next gate, assured the connection. The party, less than an hour after exiting the giant 747, were climbing aboard the much smaller 737 for the flight to Scotland. The takeoff and landing were repeated without incident and when the sixty-minute flight ended, it was just ten-thirty. Of course, it felt like six-thirty in the morning, after less than three hours of sleep, but the kids were excited, and as they were to learn, it is far better to remain awake for the remainder of the day than take a nap and go through a few days of jet lag.

Jason Graham, a representative of Philosopher Books, the organization largely responsibly for the promotional and signing tour, as well as the English publisher of _One Plus One Equal Three,_ was waiting at the gate to greet the four weary travelers. He carried an inconspicuous sign that said simply: Elrod Family. Elrod was the surname of one of the characters in the book, Bill and Jason had arranged the code name hoping to avoid any rabid fans that might be in the Glasgow airport.

It didn't work. As soon as they entered the luggage claim area one teen after another, and not a few adults, began approaching Bill for his autograph or picture, or both. Graham apologized and sent Bill, Judy, and the kids out to the waiting limo; he then enlisted a porter to pick up the eight bags. Without the throngs of fans, the process went smoothly and the two groups were quickly reunited. They were all soon to learn that word of their trip to England and Scotland had generated far more interest than anyone expected.

In yet another way, Jesse Aarons was learning about a lifestyle very different from his own. He never dreamed he would be in a limo, with a television, phone, and a promising looking cabinet full of drinks. He found Leslie giving him funny looks now and then, which he attributed to her being use to this lifestyle. In fact, it was just as novel to her, she simply was not as impressed with it.

Arriving at the hotel, the limo driver did not stop at the front entrance when she saw a small crowd of fans, and even a few Paparazzi, the notoriously aggressive tabloid photographers whose reputation had never recovered following their alleged role in the death of Princess Diana Spencer a decade earlier.

"Oh, God," Judy groaned. "How did they find out we were staying here?"

"They probably didn't," Jason explained. "I imagine it's like this at all the major hotels in town." He turned to the intercom. "Bess, take us to the delivery entrance, please."

"Is it going to be any better there?" Bill asked. Jason shook his head, looking out the window. "Ok, then we'll go in the front."

"_WHAT? Bill, you're crazy_," his wife nearly shouted. Everyone could all tell she needed to lie down, and soon. Jesse saw that Leslie looked worried.

"No, Judy, he's right. Let's do this. Bill, you and I will get out in front; Bess can drive the others to the back. As soon as the word is out you're in front of the hotel, it will be clear for the rest of your family."

Graham called the driver again and the car returned to the front of the hotel. Exiting, Bill and his escort waded into the crowd. As Leslie had told Jesse the day before, most wanted an autograph or picture, which her father provided happily. After about ten minutes, Graham's cell phone rang; he spoke one word in reply, and hung up.

"All set, Bill. You want to linger out here with your adoring fans, or head inside?"

"Very funny. I'm going to get a shower and sack-out for a bit. Why don't you come by at twelve-thirty and we can have lunch together and go over the schedule?"

By this time a small group of police officers had arrived and were able to escort Bill to the hotel. He checked at the desk and was given a key to the top-floor suite. Just when it seemed the crowds were going to get at him again, the lift doors closed. The operator made a point to stop at a few floors before his, even though there was no one else in the cab.

"Keeps the fans from knowing which floor you're on," he said with a wink and smile that showed a mouth full of crooked teeth.

Bill and Jason were met in the corridor by Leslie and Jesse who were already busy exploring the floor for interesting rooms and vending machines. A porter, rolling a hotel trolley, tipped his hat to Bill as he left the room.

"Jude? Where are you?"

"Back here," he heard the distant voice call. He wandered down the front hallway, through a large living room, and entered another corridor that had six doors. The first on the left was open. "You must be popular, love. We've never been treated like this before."

Judy was lying on a large canopied bed with her legs propped up under a pillow. Her shoes and other items she'd been carrying lay in a pile on the floor. But Bill first noticed how ashen his wife looked. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you ok? You looked pale."

"Just tired, that flight took a lot out of me. I'm going to kip for a while." She used the British term, _kip_, for taking a nap. "Just keep an eye out for the kids."

"Sure. I'm meeting with Jason in about an hour; I'll take them with me."

Judy, whose eyes were already closed, smiled her thanks. Her husband moved the phone closer in case she needed to call, and pulled a light blanket from the foot of the bed to cover her feet and legs. Judy had experienced some problems with her legs when pregnant with Leslie, he recalled, and knew she had to keep them elevated sometimes. Then he rolled over, kissed her, abandoned his plan to have a nap himself, and went off exploring.

At half past noon, Bill, Leslie, and Jesse met Jason at the front lobby; he looked concerned, even though the crowds from earlier in the day were gone. "What's wrong, Jason?" asked Bill cautiously.

"Not so much wrong, as too right. I'll explain shortly. This place has a great restaurant, shall we eat here?" He led off without waiting for an answer. Leslie took her father's hand.

"Dad, can Jesse and I look around outside? We'll stay close."

Already forgetting his wife's request, Bill gave his permission. "Have money for lunch? Have your passports? Ok, be back in a couple hours." The kids took off before he could change his mind. Jesse, he noticed, enjoyed two laps in the large revolving door as they exited.

The kids found the next two hours highly enjoyable without having the adults restricting their movement. They investigated a number of shops and a couple restaurants, amazed at both the similarities and differences between their cultures. By far, the most entertaining part of their excursion was talking to the locals. They made a game out of not understanding one shopkeeper or another because of their heavy Scottish accent. One would feign ignorance, asking the merchant to repeat them self any number of times, and the other would 'translate' incorrectly. The one who was able to have the merchant repeat their phrase the most times was the winner. On the way back, both kids were laughing so hard they were drawing attention to themselves. They didn't notice a few cameras snapping photos, either.

Back at the hotel that same evening, Jason had their dinner sent to the huge suite so he could review details of the tour and brief everyone on what to say, (or not say) colloquialisms, and a few local customs. Judy was particularly thankful for having the meal just a few steps away, she was feeling better, but knew it would take another day before she could be on her feet for any length of time.

While eating, Bill related to the others what Jason had told him had happened in the past twenty-four hours to cause the swarms of fans. "It seems a popular local author gave an interview and mentioned how she and her children like my book, and was planning to attend the signing tomorrow."

"He's being modest," Jason said casually to Judy. "That author was Jackie Roller, and when it comes to books, people listen whenever she talks."

"Oh, Bill!" Judy exclaimed proudly, clapping her hands like a little girl.

"Wow, Dad! Good work," Leslie added. Roller was her favorite author.

Jesse's eyes opened wide. "Cool, Mr. Burke!"

This news brought the table of tired and sleepy travelers back to life, at least for a while. Jason went on to explain how the book sales had jumped overnight and the publishers were scrambling to collect as many copies for the signings as possible. "Things are a bit helter-skelter here at the moment, as you can guess, what with one store begging books from another. Rather amusing, I think. It does, however, pose some problems for us. We will need to make additional arrangements for security, and the bosses want Jesse to be at all the signings."

At this news, Jesse dropped his fork and made a face at Leslie, whispering, "So much for us getting away much."

"We'll manage. I'm really happy for you." Under the table, she took his hand and squeezed it.

"What's wrong, Jess?" Mr. Burke said with a smile. "I told you I was going to make you work!"

Jesse was, in many ways, flattered by the additional attention he would get. He politely acknowledged Mr. Burke's comment and said he thought it would be fun. He was, of course, lying.

Jason continued, "And J.B. White will be joining you, too, at least until next Saturday."

Bill nodded, and seeing Jesse's confused expression explained who this person was. "White did the other illustrations, so you two will have something in common to talk about."

As dinner wound down, Jason expressed an interest in taking his guests on a motor tour of the city. Judy begged out, but insisted the others go along. "It may be the only time you get to see much of the country," she said.

"Judy's right; let's meet in the lobby at eight and take it from there."

Fatigue was beginning to take its toll on the kids, but they both went along, eagerly, as Mrs. Burke had said, to take advantage of the sparse time they would be in town. When the tour was over, however, both kids looked about ready to collapse. Bill thanked Jason and walked them up to their rooms. Judy was already fast asleep and the others not far behind.

* * *

The first full day in Scotland began with Jason Graham walking down the hallway in the suite, politely knocking on each door. One by one, the guests stumbled out of bed and were greeted by the aroma of coffee. A short, heavy man in chef's attire stood at the end of the hallway greeting his four customers and taking orders for their first meal of the day. Jesse and Leslie looked at each other, neither expecting the royal treatment, but both feeling like they might have put it off one more day in exchange for a few more hours of rest.

Shortly thereafter, Jason stood at the balcony door, while everyone ate, sipping coffee and reviewing the schedule for the day. "Ok, Bill, I need you and Jesse at Bailey's by ten minutes to ten, you'll sign from ten to noon, have a two hour break and then return from two until four. Another break for dinner and, er, then the seven to ten shift." Jason cringed, waiting for the explosion, but either Bill and Judy were too tired to care or they hadn't caught what he had said. It was the former. "Bill, you did hear me tell you about the evening session…right?"

Bill was making a mess of pouring cream into his orange juice glass instead of his coffee cup. "Huh? What's that?"

After re-explaining the schedule change, Jason received the previously expected arguments, mainly from Judy.

"I'm sorry, Judy. Bill, the sales are through the roof. We ordered a second printing late last night for an additional two million copies. I think this extra session is a…"

"I know, I know," Bill cut over the company rep. "Judy, there's plenty of time between the three, we'll be ok."

"I'm not worried about you," Judy responded, then looked at Jesse. "Mary wasn't real happy about Jesse taking part in any of the publicity. She'll be less happy with this…and just think of what your drinking buddy will say."

Bill groaned; his wife hadn't let him forget their one night of binge-drinking from three months earlier. But there was not much he could do, in any event. The publishers had a right to press Jesse into _some_ of the publicity shots and signings. He looked pleadingly at Jason whose smile seemed to say he would do what he could.

An hour later, showered and dressed, Jesse and Bill met Jason in the lobby. Judy and Leslie were spending the morning at the hotel; or more accurately, Judy was spending the morning resting and insisted Leslie keep her company. A brief shouting match ensued, but in the end the twelve year old girl remained behind. She was so angry; however, she forgot to wish her father and Jesse good luck.

Jesse met J.B. White for the first time in Bailey's, shortly before the signings were to start. He was fifteen, friendly, and dressed conservatively, but in all black. His mother, who was accompanying him, looked bored and barely smiled at anyone. They each had nametags that identified them as _Jesse Aarons, Illustrator_ and _J.B. White, Illustrator_. When J.B.'s mother saw this, however, she took Jason aside and began to berate him for listing Jesse as an equal to her son. It was humiliating to both boys, and the situation was saved only when Bill put his foot down and told the woman that what was done was done, and she had to live with it. For the remainder of the tour, however, it was not only Bill Burke who had to endure evil looks from the overbearing woman. J.B. quietly apologized to Jesse for his mother's rudeness.

By noon, the first session was over and Jesse was far less anxious than when it had started. Bill was the obvious favorite of the attendees, and only a few dozen patrons were interested in having the illustrators sign their books. And while this vexed Mrs. White greatly, neither her son nor Jesse particularly cared. Jesse signed fourteen books, (two of them for one person,) all on the first illustration of chapter two, but he was enjoying talking to J.B. far more, and learning about his experience and background in drawing. When Jason stopped the line of waiting fans at noon, Mrs. White whisked her son away without a word.

Bill and Jesse departed together, looking for a nice place to eat within walking distance, and found one two blocks down a crowded alley. The meal was quiet, except for Bill's repeated apologies for Mrs. White, and Jesse's repeated questions about the schedule. When finished they returned to Bailey's where Jason, Judy, and Leslie were waiting. Jason immediately and mysteriously escorted them to the back of the store. Upon entering the manager's office, they saw why. Jackie Roller and her eldest daughter were inside, ostensibly to avoid drawing attention away from Bill.

Leslie gasped when she saw the famous author and ran up to her first, shaking her hand and rattling off thanks for coming to the store. Bill stepped up and introduced his family and Jesse. He noticed that the Whites were nowhere to be seen, not that he particularly cared. While the two authors stepped aside to talk privately, Jesse and Leslie approached her daughter, Lizzy, who seemed about their age, and struck up a typical pre-teen conversation. When Lizzy discovered that Jesse was one of the illustrators, however, she immediately pulled him away from Leslie and took out her copy of Mr. Burke's book, begging him to sign the front cover and both of his illustrations. As he flipped to the page, Jesse could see that the book had already been well read.

"Which was your favorite story?" Jesse asked, having finished the final autograph.

"Chapter six, definitely. Did you read it?"

"Yeah, I did. I read the entire manuscript in January. I was hoping to do all the illustrations but," Jesse shrugged. "I just ended up with those two. The guy who did the others will be in the store later. Why don't you get in line and…?" Lizzy's expression reminded Jesse about the pitfalls of being the daughter of a very famous person. "Oh, sorry. Trying to avoid the crowds?"

"Yes, but that's ok. It was nice meeting you, Jesse. Maybe we'll see each other later. Er, you, too, Leslie," she added, but every syllable of her comment to Jesse's friend contradicted her behavior. With a final wave, she walked over to her mother who was just ending her conversation.

"I wonder where she thinks she'll see us again," Leslie said, obviously not looking forward to the time. She noticed Jesse was still watching the girl. "_Ahem!_ Jesse?"

"Yeah, oh, sorry. Here comes your dad."

"Did you get me her autograph, Dad?" Leslie asked hopefully.

"No."

"_WHAT?_ Oh, she's _gone_, now. How could you _forget_?" Then she stopped, her father was laughing and handing over a heavy piece of paper. Jesse looked at it but didn't see any autograph; it was a note of some sort.

"You can get it from her yourself," Mr. Burke said, as if it were nothing. "She and her daughter are having dinner with us tonight."

Leslie, who thought that there could be nothing better in the world than touring England with Jesse, suddenly found a new apex of delight. She hugged her father, then Jesse, then Jason, then the store manager who began to look around as if he didn't want to be caught touching a minor. Her dispositions seemed set for the day. She had forgotten Lizzy would be with her mother that evening.

The afternoon signing session began a short time later. J.B. reappeared at the last minute and sat beside Jesse. His mother remained stony-faced behind the boys and radiated a constant ill will. Leslie, who had squeezed a chair in between her father and Jesse, began carrying on a lively conversation and flirting with J.B., completely ignoring Jesse after seeing him chatting with one of her father's female fans about drawing. Jesse felt that, it being the second time in as many days his best friend was doing something to intentionally hurt him, began to flirt, to the best of his very limited ability, with the girl. At some point they noticed each other and the situation appeared to be heading downhill. Mrs. White was the only one who found the circumstances at all amusing.

Eventually, Mrs. Burke, who was sitting in the manager's office and would come out front every now and then, observed the two friends acting puerile. She pulled both away from the signing table and back into to the office. Telling the manager to "scram," and shutting the door, she spoke her mind.

"Ok, you two, why are you behaving like this to each other?" she asked sternly, facing her daughter first.

"Oh, you _care_ about Jess and me now?_"_ Leslie snapped sarcastically. Jesse was certain Mrs. Burke would slap her daughter for her rudeness. Instead she just stood and pointed to them both.

"We have to live together for the next twenty days. But if _BOTH_ of you are going to play games like this I'll take _both_ of you home. _UNDERSTOOD?_"

Jesse had never heard Mrs. Burke like this and was afraid to speak: he just nodded. Leslie, who was not typically weepy, was trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears. She did speak, stiffly, but not to her mother.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I wasn't trying to be rude or make…oh, never mind. I'm sorry."

The two kids sat down next to each other on the cheap, clammy vinyl sofa in the office. As soon as they did, Mrs. Burke left them alone. They could hear her talking to the manager and asking him to show her to the nearest pharmacy.

"Probably gave her a migraine," Jesse said guiltily.

Leslie wiped her eyes with her sleeve and sniffled. Jesse watched her with curiosity while she calmed down, not really knowing what to say or do, or why they had even started acting that way. It didn't feel like the right time to put his arm around her. Eventually he just apologized again.

"Sorry, Les. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. Still friends?"

"Of course, you toad. I'm just…I don't know. I've never spoken to my mother that way before. I feel like _kicking_ her at times…I feel like kicking _myself_ at times, too." Jesse laughed and whatever spell was hanging over them was broken. A minute later Leslie was her old self, excited about their dinner guests, and the next stop on the trip. Again, Jesse wondered if he should give Leslie a quick hug, but chose to squeeze her hand instead and lead her back to the table.

Mrs. White didn't look at all pleased that Jesse was returning or that she had stopped being so overly friendly with her son.

Bill, Leslie, Jesse, and Jason returned to the hotel shortly after four. Judy, the chef informed them, was taking a rest and Mr. Burke went to check on her. Jason suggested the kids get cleaned up for the early dinner and they disappeared into their respective rooms.

The evening meal was planned for five o'clock, with the guests arriving at a quarter till. Leslie was pacing in front of the door with her copy of Ms. Roller's latest hit, _Harold Hallow and the Hairy Wizard,_ well before then. Jesse, amused, watched her pace for a while and then started sketching the spacious living room of the suite. Just as he had completed roughing out the walls and furniture, Jason opened the door and entered with Jackie and Lizzy Roller. Both looked refreshed and had changed into what Mr. Burke told Jesse was, casual dinner dress. While Leslie chatted with the famous author, Lizzy went to see what Jesse was drawing.

After observing him for a minute, she asked, "Can you draw me?" Jesse felt a little ill about that suggestion but proposed another idea – it was better than Leslie being annoyed with him for the next three weeks.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Roller, Leslie; can I draw the three of you?" Leslie was delighted by the idea. She had sometimes wondered why Jesse did not draw her more often. Roller seemed surprised until she astutely determined her daughter instigated the entire thing and that Jesse was trying to defuse a potential bomb.

Jesse positioned the three with the mother sitting in the chair and her daughter resting on the right arm of the chair. Leslie was partially hidden on the left side but Jesse had her rest her hand casually on the author's shoulder. "Are you going to have time to finish this, Jess?" Ms. Roller asked.

"He'll finish. Wait until you see," Leslie said proudly.

Over the next twenty minutes, Jesse worked furiously while the chef gave a minute-by-minute countdown to dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Burke stood in the dining room, watching in amazement at the speed with which their daughter's friend drew. Jason was likewise impressed. Even the cook started watching until he sniffed the air and ran cursing in some foreign language back into the kitchen. And then it was done…almost.

"I'll fill in the details of the room later, but I think I got the three of you pretty well." Jesse walked up to his subjects who were all stretching. When he turned the pad around they all gasped.

Thinking they found fault with the picture, Jesse quickly said, "Uh, sorry about the size, I couldn't bring a full-sized pad of paper. If-If you like, Mrs. Roller, I can send this to you…and Lizzy, after I've finished it."

By now the others had gathered around. Graham and Roller were giving Bill strange looks until the he said defensively, "He wasn't drawing this good until it was too late for the book."

"Bill, J.B. is a good artist but this…" He scratched his head and muttered something about redoing the illustrations for the third printing, if there was one. Roller agreed.

"Jess, this is spectacular…and in just twenty minutes! How long have you been drawing?"

Just then the chef announced dinner. Embarrassed, Jesse closed the pad and went to the table. He refused to talk about his skills at dinner to the point where Leslie kicked him.

"Jesse! Don't be rude!" she chided him quietly.

He relaxed after that, but felt terribly out of place. And he was feeling as if a migraine was coming on. A short while later he knew he was in trouble, his head felt like it was being crushed in a vice. He excused himself and made it to the bathroom, just in time, vomiting up his _filet mignon_ dinner. A minute later he heard Leslie tap on his bedroom door and he called out for her to come in. As soon as she saw him she ran to his backpack and retrieved his medicine. Even before she could get him a drink, he put it under his tongue and let it dissolve.

"Jesse, Les, are you two…" was as far as Judy Burke got. She calmly motioned for her husband to come into the room and he got Jesse back into his bed, and then returned to the guests before anyone knew what was going on. Almost.

"Is something wrong with Jesse, Mr. Burke?" Lizzy asked in a voice that said she knew full well something _was_ wrong. Her mother shot her a scathing look but Bill answered the question.

"Jess has migraines now and then. Between the traveling and the excitement of the day he's pretty worn out."

"Is Leslie taking care of him? She appears to like him a great deal. Are they in love?"

"_Lizzy!_ _That – is – enough_!" her mother said sternly. "I am so sorry, Bill, Judy. My daughter and I are going to have a little talk." Standing, Roller took her daughter's arm and looking about for a moment, walked to the balcony, closing the door behind them. The conversation was very animated and brief. When they returned, Lizzy stood at the head of the table and apologized.

"Thank you, Lizzy," Mrs. Burke said calmly. "And to answer your questions… No, Jackie, I know I don't have to. Yes, Lizzy, Leslie is taking care of him. Yes, she likes him a great deal. Last year Jesse saved her life and they are very close. As for being in love? What can I say? They're only twelve." Lizzy seemed appreciative for the answers and apologized again for her rudeness. She sat at her place and dinner resumed, but the awkwardness of the last few minutes hung over the table and stifled conversation.

Following desert, during which Leslie reappeared, the Roller's prepared to leave. Jackie sent her daughter ahead into the lobby with Jason and again apologized for the scene. She shook Bill's hand, gave Judy a brief hug with a wish of good luck for the baby and her own upcoming book, told Leslie to keep writing, and departed. Then she popped her head back in and asked Leslie to say goodbye to Jesse for her.

A little after ten that night, Jesse was lying quietly in his darkened room having heard the cook finish cleaning up and the last sounds in the kitchen fade away. Mrs. Burke and Leslie had retired earlier and Jesse knew he should try to sleep with another busy day ahead, but his stomach was growling more than his head was hurting. Pulling on his shorts, he rose and shuffled quietly into the kitchen. There was a covered plate in the fridge with his name on it, the remainder of his uneaten dinner. It was still a little warm. Rummaging around, Jesse found a fork and knife and returned to his room to eat.

Leslie was sitting on his bed when he walked in.

"Hey, I heard you get up. Are you feeling better?" she said quietly.

"Yeah. Uh, Les, you know your mother would freak if she found you in here," Jesse said as he sat next to her and started eating.

"Maybe I don't care," muttered Leslie, mainly to herself.

"Whaf wiff few, Weff?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Mr. Toad."

Jesse gave his friend a thankless look, and then opened his mouth. "See-food!"

"_Ahhh!_"

"Shhh!"

Leslie fell back in the bed laughing while Jesse finished eating.

"So," Jesse said when he finished, "why are you being so, uh, rebellious today?"

"Is that what I'm doing?" She gave an exaggerated evil laugh.

"I-I guess, you're not being very nice to your mother, are you?" Jesse stood and put his dish on the dresser, ready to return to bed, but Leslie wasn't moving. "I gotta get to sleep, Les." She patted the covers next to her and Jesse sat, not looking happy, though he wasn't completely certain why. He was saved by a knock on the door.

"Jess?" they heard Mr. Burke ask just before the door began to open. Leslie jumped up.

"Just checking on Jess, Dad."

Mr. Burke's face appeared. "Alright there, Jess?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Les, busy day tomorrow."

* * *

On the train to Glasgow the next morning, Leslie's unusual and, in Jesse's opinion, defiant behavior seemed to have passed. Now she was just acting grumpy. _At least she's predictable_, he thought. Mrs. Burke seemed to be feeling better, too, but there was an obvious strain between her and her daughter. Jesse considered asking Mr. Burke about it, but decided to wait until he didn't think Leslie would snap at him.

The schedule for Tuesday and Wednesday was a little easier. There were only two sessions Wednesday, in the afternoon and evening, three hours each. Without the distraction of the Roller's visit, the day was nowhere near as hectic. Jesse had time before dinner to finish the drawing and Jason volunteered to post it the following day.

A free day was scheduled between Glasgow and the first city in England, Carlisle, and everyone took it easy with only some light sightseeing. Jesse also called home and spoke with his mother and May for a few minutes, but it left him feeling a bit homesick and isolated. For whatever reasons, he and Leslie, after the first day in Edinburg, had spent little time together, and being near her was one of the main attractions for Jesse accepting the tour offer. Thursday morning, on the journey to Liverpool, Mrs. Burke made a point to sit with him on the train, a time he and his friend would usually have been together. But it didn't bother Jesse in the least.

"I thought we could both use a break from Leslie," she said a half-hour into the trip when her daughter had walked off to look around the train. Jesse thought she was kidding but wasn't sure how to respond to this and remained silent.

"She gets like this now and then," Judy continued. "You just haven't been around her this much to notice."

"I've never heard her talk to you, um, like she did at Bailey's," said Jesse, a little embarrassed.

"She's a girl, Jess. Get used to it."

Jesse had an urge to ask her what the heck that meant, but decided to remain silent.

Late Friday, they were again aboard an express from Liverpool to Northampton, and for the first time in almost a week Leslie seemed to have popped up out of the funk she had been in. In fact, she seemed like a completely different person, much more like the best friend Jesse knew. Her smile was back, she stopped her occasional flirting with J.B., something that Jesse had attributed to an unknown aspect of the female psyche that he had yet to understand, the friction between her and her mother – which had come to include her father – was gone, and for the first time since the tour began she kissed Jesse. That was performed with a clever bit of subterfuge that involved her deftly positioning herself and Jesse in seats _behind_ her parents. She then initiated a conversation about an incident at school the previous year, which Jesse knew she didn't want her parents to hear about. He obligingly leaned closer and, when they were finished talking about the incident, she thanked him more personally than he had been expecting.

The kiss caught him by surprise, much as his to her back in April had, but she seemed completely happy with seeing him smile. The two of them kissing, at the same time, was still not something Jesse was completely comfortable with. Although his avid dislike for the concept of kissing had long passed, it still felt far less beneficial for all the effort expended to work up the nerve and perform the action. It was still not an act that was stirring feelings deeper inside him, and he was a bit embarrassed that Leslie seemed to do it so effortlessly. He promised himself that at some point on the tour he would ignore what he felt were silly inhibitions and, in the words he once heard Ellie use, "Really lay one on him," or her, in this case. But before he could do that he had to find out exactly what "laying one on" meant; he concluded it must be kissing on the lips, not a completely unappealing prospect. He did remember a recent dream he had where they were together…

But the schedule for the next few days prevented all but travel, meals, signings, and sleep.

Saturday in Northampton was insanely busy. The best part of the day was saying farewell to Mrs. White, who had managed to make enemies at their every stop. The schedule called for three sessions that day and two the following, with a schedule so tight they had to be on a train for Birmingham at six in the afternoon. Monday wasn't too bad, but included a late train to Cardiff. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent between Cardiff, Bristol and Bath where they spent Wednesday night.

Thursday morning offered a brief respite where they toured the ancient Roman baths that gave name to the city. Leslie was able to convince her parents to allow her and Jesse to lunch together, alone, on the famous _Pultney Bridge_ overlooking the river's scenic weir. They only had an hour together but both enjoyed the time alone. Jesse found his friend's smiles and attention deeply warming and affectionate in a way he had never felt, and he tried to work up the courage to kiss her as thanks for the time together alone. But he chickened-out when a group of teens came into the small café and started waiting for them to vacate the table; he had to settle for holding her hand while walking back to meeting her parents and Jason, but she seemed eminently pleased.

Like Jesse, Leslie was a bit disappointed with the rigorous pace of the tour. Even though she had been warned repeatedly about the trip, the hoards of fans that seemed to increase at each stop, the ever tightening schedule, and the need to be with her mother was causing her to second guess the wisdom of suggesting Jesse accompany them, or even going herself. Only one day into the tour and she was fighting with her mother. _And she has the nerve to try and tell me why I'm crabby!_ It hadn't occurred to Leslie that her mother might be more in tune to a female's mood swings. She had, after all, experienced about two hundred forty of the monthly events, compared to her daughter's dozen or so.

Watching her daughter change before her eyes was emotionally demanding, and Judy Burke was near the end of her rope. She had known since finding out about the tour schedule that Leslie would beg for Jesse to come with them, and if she hadn't been pregnant she would have offered no resistance. Bill, however, made Jesse's inclusion almost essential by notifying his U.S. agents of Jesse's availability; Judy wasn't sure that she ever received a straight answer from her husband about whether that was his or Leslie's idea. Events, at that point, happened so rapidly that there was hardly time to consider all the consequences of including Jesse on the tour. Almost from the start she regretted the move.

Seeing the kids sleeping together on the flight overseas shocked her, though she knew she was being unreasonable. Half of her wanted to scream when she saw Jesse's arm draped over her daughter, the other half – the half that won – took out her camera and snapped a number of low-light photographs of them to share at some future date. Judy, too, had been completely serious when she threatened to take both kids home on the second day. It was primarily for the reasons she told them, but then, and more so now, she was realizing that she could not possibly complete the tour as planned. The day after arriving, she had begun to spot, a signal that she needed to see an obstetrician immediately. The minor bleeding stopped after a day and she took a chance that it was due to stress. Even if it was due to something more serious, like placenta previa, nothing could be done until later in the pregnancy, outside of resting, which she was already doing.

This placed her and Bill into a precarious situation. If he cancelled the tour there would be significant financial and professional repercussions. That it was for a valid medical concern was irrelevant, she knew. _He's not pregnant_, Judy envisioned them saying. She could leave on her own, but that would place her husband into the position of watching over two pre-teens who were obviously interested in wandering off into the country and exploring more than just _familiar terrain_. Or so she imagined. She could take Leslie home with her, but feared it would only strain their relationship further, and it would still leave Jesse to care for and keep from becoming bored. And she had personally promised Mary Aarons to look after Jesse. And then there was the surprise that only she and Bill knew about, and she really didn't want to sacrifice that part of the trip.

Taking the myriad of options into account was beyond her power at that time, so she opted for the easiest, though probably not the smartest route. She left Bill with the two kids four days early and went to their final destination to rest and seek medical care. As usual, Bill was not worried about their daughter and Jesse. She had to remind him that he was half the party that got her pregnant when they were not much older than his charges. This point seemed to make an impression on her husband and Judy split from the group Friday morning. Her final worry was seeing how happy her daughter looked waving goodbye from the hotel lobby.

Later that same morning, Jason escorted Bill, Leslie, and Jessie on the last leg of their English tour. The express train took them into King's Cross station and a cab to the Bonnington Hotel in downtown London. There was a schedule change awaiting Bill which Jason himself was unaware of: a semi-formal dinner at Chapping's, a ritzy writer's club of which Jackie Roller was a member. The event was not so much a problem as the dress; none of them brought semi-formal attire (to Judy's disgust) and they spent most of the afternoon being fitted for clothes. Bill was blasé about it, Jesse found it amusing, but Leslie, use to unorthodox fashions, balked at the tailors fussing over her and took an hour longer than the others, causing her dress to be barely finished for the seven o'clock dinner.

When the three walked into Chapping's formal dining room, they received a standing ovation from the three hundred other guests. Bill, familiar with formal dinners, never batted an eye. Neither Jesse nor Leslie, however, had attended anything remotely similar and they blushed and stumbled through the introductions feeling _themselves_ the center of attention. Following dinner, there were a few introductory speakers which, again, Bill handled expertly. But when Jesse was unexpectedly asked to stand, he froze, wide eyed, until Leslie kicked him under the table. The Master of Ceremonies introduced him as, "The shy American artist."

Bill made more extended remarks and thanks for the honor of attending the club's annual banquet. He spoke about the warm reception they had received at every stop and their regret at having to leave on Monday. This caught Jesse and Leslie's attention as both thought they were staying through the week. By the time the event was over, they were both immensely curious as to what the next week would hold. Exhausted by the long tour, particularly the past few days, the three remaining travelers retired to the Bonnington's royal suite and went to sleep before the kids found an answer to their question.

The next two days were a whirl of people, places, and cameras. Without J.B., Jesse was receiving much more attention and was learning to present himself properly and "Speak like a celebrity," as Mr. Burke would say. Leslie was also enjoying taking a larger part in the signings. Although in the background, she was right where she wanted to be, and with whom she wanted to be. Her father had warned her to be careful what she said about Jesse and how she was seen in public with him, lest the press pick up on the fact that they might be more than friends. Unfortunately, Bill did not warn Jesse as much as he did his daughter, and on the second night, following the last signing of the day, at least one photographer caught the two holding hands. Jason's damage control the next day was completely professional and totally useless. The Enquirer's front-page stories included a small picture of Jesse and Leslie holding hands, following the famous author. The by-line read:

**Writer/Illustrator  
Family Connections?**

"Damn!" Bill said when Jason handed him the tabloid the following morning. "Judy's going to kill me."

"Bill, I tried to cover this up, but what's the story? Are they dating?"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Jason, _they're twelve!_ Leslie thinks she's in love with Jesse, and Jesse likes her, I'm sure, but…" he trailed off, shrugging, and feeling helpless.

"But they do have some feelings for each other?" Jason persisted.

"Yes!" The two men turned to see Leslie standing at the entrance to the kitchen. "Why?"

Bill handed his daughter the paper and saw her pale, though she recovered quickly and even smiled a bit as she handed the paper back.

"This isn't funny, Les. We don't want the press hounding us, or Jess. Just keep your hands to yourself and we'll be ok."

Jason gave Bill a highly dubious look.

The last day in London was just as hectic as the previous two. Now and then, Bill or Jesse would be asked about Leslie, but both stood by the answer Jason suggested: "She's just a friend," or some equally bland statement. Late that night, back in the hotel, the kids heard Mr. Burke in a heated discussion on the phone with his wife. It seemed to go on forever, and when it was done, Leslie's father chased them both to bed; he looked as if he was very unhappy.

* * *

The connection was becoming more durable, and appeared as if it was also less painful, though pain was impossible to measure. He _knew_ he had felt Leslie through the sixth sense he and his younger self had forged. He _knew_ she was alive. In maddeningly narcissistic impulses of joy and desire, Jesse was forcing the connection to open and strengthen. He could feel his older self flowing into, and altering, his younger self, little by little. It was only a matter of time before their consciousnesses would become aware of each other.

How long would it take? He was not sure. How long had it been? Another unknown. The only hint of time he could glean from the maddeningly brief connections was a scent of youth, if he could call it that. For all he knew, only a few seconds of his younger self's life had passed.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	14. Part 3: The Holiday

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 14 – The Holiday  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

The Monday morning of their final week in Europe, Jason Graham escorted his guests to Waterloo Station and bid them farewell. Mr. Burke was still not telling the kids what they were doing for the rest of the week, but Jesse pointed out that the station from which they were departing only had trains to the Dover area and the mainland. As they boarded the train, it became obvious that Dover was not their destination. The high-speed three-hour trip from London took them through the famous English Channel Tunnel, or _Chunnel_, to the Gare du Nord station in Paris.

There was a quick stop in Paris for customs, and then off to take a taxi to another station for their next connection. Again, Mr. Burke refused to tell the kids their final destination, but it did not matter as both Leslie and Jesse were distracted by the cab ride through the heart of Paris. An hour later, they arrived at the Gare du Lyon station and checked their luggage. Finally, nearing six o'clock, they boarded the famous super-high-speed TGV, or _Train à Grande Vitesse_, internationally known for its speed records.

From Paris to Marseille took just three and a quarter hours. In one day, they had spanned the entire length of the country. Leslie and Jesse watched in wonder as the French countryside sped by, most of the time in a blur of green. They chatted and played games to pass the time, and speculated on their final destination, which Leslie believed to be the French Riviera. To a poor country boy, Jesse couldn't imagine a vacation on the famous French Mediterranean beaches and his exuberance was contagious. By the time they arrived in Marseille, both children were hopping with excitement. Following a short layover, they were on their way again, this time west, to their final destination: Nice.

Mr. Burke worked on his laptop most of the way, until Leslie said they were approaching the stop. Gathering their belongings, they exited the train, collected their luggage, and hailed a cab to their hotel. It was just past midnight, but Judy Burke met them in the lobby and greeted them pleasantly, her former look of exhaustion gone. Again they stayed in a huge suite, this time with indecipherable French labels on the sinks stating Chaud, and Froid, among other mysterious words and unusual fixtures.

Breakfast the following morning at a fancy restaurant was long and very different from any the kids had experienced. Aside from the excellent cuisine, the large dining area was on the top floor of their hotel and gave all the customers a spectacular view of the famous white Côte d'Azur beaches and sparkling blue ocean. Sail and motor boats dotted the bay, as well as a few cruise liners coming and going to the city docks to take on or disembark passengers. Even from fifteen stories up the beach was wide, and spotted with multi-colored umbrellas and beach chairs. The scene was nothing like the one Jesse had first seen in Virginia Beach; everything about the Côte d'Azur was…foreign. Jesse once more noticed, as at the start of the tour, an other-worldly flavor to everything they did, as if he was in a dream.

Whatever friction had been present earlier in the trip was now gone. Leslie and Jesse were completely content, and Mr. & Mrs. Burke, Jesse noticed, had reverted back to their normal easy-going demeanor. Following breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Burke called the kids together to discuss their plans for the next four days. Everyone appeared happy that no one wanted to do anything strenuous, especially Mrs. Burke. They agreed to spend the first two days on the beach and then see how they felt about touring. With this decision out of the way, Mr. Burke offered to take the kids to the water while his wife relaxed and read in the room for an hour or two. Aside from the usual warnings about strangers and pick-pockets, the kids were given a two-minute indoctrination from Mrs. Burke about the culture of the area; Mr. Burke sat quietly, pink faced.

"Leslie, Jess, you will find the restrictions on beach attire here very different from what we have in the states. Topless bathing is common, so don't freak-out if you come across it. I expect you both to behave yourself, don't stare, and just move away or come back in if you feel uncomfortable. There's a pool you can use, too, if you don't want to hang out at the beach."

Here was something Jesse would never have dreamed of. Well, actually, he _had_ dreamed of it, but not in the same way. He shared an embarrassed look at Leslie when her mother finished.

"Is it…required?" he asked, clearly distressed.

"What are you worried about, Jess? You always swim topless," she laughed. But it didn't help his anxiety much.

Mrs. Burke gave her daughter a disapproving look and answered, "No, Jess, and don't worry, you won't see _anyone you know_, I'm quite sure."

Fifteen minutes later they were on their way.

The morning crowds at the beach had not yet arrived in force as Mr. Burke rented two large umbrellas, or parasols as they are called in France, chairs and towels, and selected a spot about half-way between the boardwalk and the water's edge. As Jesse started to put on his suntan lotion, he noticed Leslie's swimwear. The navy blue two-piece was modest, but at the same time alluring, showing a bit more skin than her suit from the previous summer had revealed. He observed her hair, just off her shoulders, barely long enough to put in a ponytail. Her skin had a "farmer's tan" which looked a bit odd with her attire. Jesse's thoughts registered her distinctly feminine figure and he felt a twinge of irritation that Mr. Burke was putting the lotion on her back, not him.

"Jess? Want me to do yours?" Leslie asked, shaking him out of his trance. She was smiling in a way he was learning to associate with their mutual affection. He just nodded and turned his back to her. As she rubbed the oil in, he found his mind wandering back to Mrs. Burke's warning.

"Don't forget to do your stomach and chest, Jess," said Mr. Burke. He saw Leslie was already on her way to the water and he was standing alone.

_I probably have a stupid grin on my face_, he realized, quickly covering his torso and legs with lotion.

The Mediterranean coast is nothing like the U.S. Atlantic coast. There are few waves to play in, but the blue-tinted clear water and beautiful scenery made up the difference. After an hour in the water, Mr. Burke brought out flippers, snorkels, and masks he had purchased so they could see more of the aquatic life. Following some awkward trials and errors, the kids had another dimension to explore and found the underwater world at least as spectacular as that above the surface. Around noon, they returned and found Leslie's mother had joined her father with two large bags: a picnic for lunch.

With the noon meal complete, Mrs. Burke insisted the kids rest for at least an hour before heading back into the water. Spreading out another blanket under the second parasol, Jesse and Leslie lay side-by-side on their stomachs, heads using their folded arms for pillows. Between the warm air and filling lunch, they soon fell asleep. When they awoke an hour later, the beach was far more crowded than it had been that morning. As they chatted about snorkeling and other things they wanted to try, both reapplied suntan lotion before heading back to the water. On the way, the kids experienced their first topless bathers.

Jesse didn't really know what to expect. Aside from the vanilla FLE information he'd gathered from school, he assumed all females were essentially the same beneath their clothes, except in size. And besides, he had put the possibility of actually seeing a topless woman into the category of _virtually impossible, _so Mrs. Burke's warning had been long forgotten. Blushing brightly, mouth agape, Leslie had to turn back and take his hand to get him moving again. Fortunately, the subjects of his examination were far enough away that no one really detected the event but the two friends. When he returned to an awareness of his situation, Jesse became immensely curious about why Leslie appeared more embarrassed than he did.

A couple hours later, Mr. Burke joined the kids snorkeling and had them lead him around to places offshore where the fish were plentiful. The spectacular colors kept his eyes wide open in awe, but with the afternoon sun waning, it was time to head in to bathe and prepare for dinner. Mr. Burke, now having seen what the kids had been experiencing, almost gave in to their pleas for another hour in the water, but he told them there was always tomorrow. Collecting their gear, the four headed back to the hotel.

After rinsing the sand from their legs and feet at the beach shower, Leslie told her parents that she and Jesse would be right up. She then took his hand and walked back to the boardwalk railing where they could see the ocean and the hundreds of bathers spread out before them.

"Like it?" she asked him.

"I – yes, I still think I'm in a dream at times. You don't see this at Lark Creek."

Leslie laughed and hugged his arm. "No, we sure don't."

Jesse looked intensely at his friend. "Thanks for inviting me, Les."

"You're welcome." She smiled warmly again. Jesse had noticed that his attention would sometimes linger on Leslie's face when she smiled. It made him feel good.

The kids stood there for a while watching the ocean and the people, listening in on the French that was almost universally spoken. Occasionally they heard a smattering of Italian and some American or British English, but not much. Jesse, hungry though he was, didn't want to move an inch. Leslie was holding his arm, and it gave him a feeling of comfort, even more than usual. He had been feeling a little homesick since the previous Thursday, but their busy schedule had kept his mind occupied. Now it drifted back, in and out; he knew it was time to return home.

Intermingled with his desire to get back to Lark Creek was something else he had been fighting off. He was not sure what it was, but he knew the end-result was a migraine. When he had had the first one on the trip, two weeks earlier, he noticed that a peculiar sensation preceded it, and it was happening again. Part of him wanted to run away from his best friend, another wanted to hide behind her.

The pressure in his head suddenly increased to an uncomfortable level and Jesse felt his body pulling away from Leslie. As he drew back, he noticed something about her that frightened and confused him. He felt like he was looking at her through another person's eyes; it made no sense whatsoever, but this fleeting disorientation faded as his head throbbed so badly that waves of nausea joined the pain in his skull.

"Jess? Are you ok? _Crap!_ Are you having a migraine?" she asked as he began to collapse against her.

"Jess? Leslie, what's going on?" Mr. Burke asked. He had returned just as Jesse was starting to sway, to see where they were and hurry them along for dinner.

"I think he's having another one…another migraine, Dad."

"No," Jesse said, the crushing pain in his head instantly lessening, "I think I'll be alright." But he almost collapsed to the wooden walkway. Sitting, he hung his head between his legs, breathing in deeply.

"You sure, Jess?" Leslie asked, moving closer and putting a hand on his head. He nodded.

"Think you can you walk to the room?"

"I think so. Sorry, it was really bad for a few seconds and then it stopped." While the statement was true, his body still felt like it had been through an hour or two of the debilitating ailment. He noticed his vision was still a little blurry, something that usually happened only when the migraine was going full-force, but that, too, was clearing rapidly.

Leslie and her father helped him up and they proceeded to their room where Jesse took one of his migraine meds, in case the pain restarted. But that effectively ended his day as he would be asleep soon. He quickly rinsed off and went to lie down on his bed. In the other room, he heard Leslie talking to her parents about staying with him while they went on to dinner. Just as he was fading off to sleep, Leslie knocked on the door.

"Jess? Mom and Dad are going to dinner. I'll be in the living room; if you need anything just call." She smiled and waved as Jesse fell asleep. His last thought, before succumbing to unconsciousness, was how nice it was for Leslie to stay with him.

* * *

Secretly relieved to be with only her husband, Judy and Bill held hands as they walked the busy streets of Nice near their hotel, looking for a restaurant at which to eat dinner. This was the way they usually traveled: outside of hotel reservation, everything else was spontaneous, impulsive, unplanned. They seldom regretted traveling that way, either. Many of their friends would pour over travel guides and tour books for weeks before their trip, only to find a building demolished or a museum closed and their carefully planned schedule in ruins. Bill and Judy Burke enjoyed the freedom their good fortune in life had provided them, and made the most of it.

A cool northerly breeze invited the couple to sit at an outside café just two blocks from their hotel. Unencumbered by children, and a car, Bill enjoyed two glasses of an excellent wine while his wife sipped mineral water with a twist of lemon and lime. It was the first time in more than two weeks that they had been able to be by themselves for an extended length of time, so, naturally, they talked about _their kids_, as Judy had begun to call her daughter and Jesse.

"She was horrible our first week in England." Judy said. "Was I like Les at that age, Bill?"

"I didn't know you at twelve, but at thirteen, yes, most definitely. Every month, Wicked Witch Judy would appear on her broom and frighten me away." Bill saluted his wife with his second glass of wine.

"Oh, nonsense…" She paused. "_Was_ _I_ that bad?"

"Don't recall, Jude. I do remember one fight we had about some incredibly stupid thing just after I turned fourteen. Do you remember that?"

"Oh, Lord! You mean the birthday card from my sister?" Judy hid her face and laughed uproariously. "I always did let Joan get to me."

"And you still do!" They both laughed this time.

"Sibling rivalry," said Judy, shaking her head. They both fell quiet for a while.

Bill started to look antsy, a sure sign he was going to say something uncomfortable or important. "Guess what Les asked me before going to the beach this morning…after your comments about, _ahem_, native attire," Bill said seriously. His wife noticed he was no longer smiling. She could _guess_ the question.

Tentatively, she asked, "Are you pulling my leg, Bill?" He shook his head slowly.

"And…? What did you tell her?"

"I told her no." His wife sighed gratefully. "I wish someone had told me _no_ when I was fourteen. Might have saved us some trouble."

"Would you have listened?" Judy asked, as if they had never discussed this before.

"As I recall, it was _you_ that started things that, uh, day," said Bill, smiling.

"Yeah, alright… And you wonder why I worry about Les."

"She isn't you, Jude."

"Think I haven't thought of that every April third for the past twenty years?" Judy hung her head, hoping her husband recalled the day their first child was born.

* * *

Wednesday morning, a soggy mist moved over the coast and postponed the second day of swimming and snorkeling. Bill offered to take the kids to some nearby ancient Roman ruins lest they go crazy in the hotel; Judy agreed and returned to her latest book. Four hours later, the three returned, soaked, but with smiles. Jesse and Leslie were having a difficult time suppressing giggles.

"How was the tour?" Judy asked warily.

"It was ok, Mom," Leslie volunteered first, "until Dad tripped over some power cord and all the lights went out."

Everyone laughed; Bill Burke was not the most graceful of men.

"And then he fell in a fountain, Mrs. Burke," Jesse added, giving Leslie a high-five.

Bill was holding his passport and wallet, protected in a plastic baggie, as if it were a dead fish. "They conspired against me, Jude. I plead not guilty." Bill took off his slicker and shirt. The sound of him ringing it out in the bathroom sent his wife and the two kids rolling on the bed with laughter.

"Ok you two, go get changed. Is it clearing up outside? I thought I saw the sun."

"Yeah, Mom, we're heading to the beach."

"Hang on, I'll go, too," Mr. Burke added.

There were few tourists on the beach that afternoon and the two kids spent the time building sand castles and roaming the beach for shells. Bill was lounging in a chair watching them walk down through the surf when he spotted trouble. A large group of teen boys and girls, none wearing tops, were approaching. As the older groups neared, it was obvious Leslie and Jesse had spotted them. He watched, knowing there was little he could do, hoping neither of his children would become greatly discomforted. They stopped for just a second, and then ran further into the ocean, apparently ignoring the teens. Bill rose and walked slowly in their direction to be certain all was well.

Jesse and Leslie appeared to be carrying on a serious conversation. The topic was obvious, based on the fact that both kids were blushing furiously. Bill didn't want to intrude so he remained about a hundred yards off, pretending to be looking out to sea. He was, in fact, still observing the two out of the corner of his eyes. They talked for a long time, and held hands when waves threatened to swamp them. That was all. At one point, Leslie turned and saw her father, giving him a smile and wave. Bill returned it and started back to his chair. As he walked off, he felt rather proud of himself; _he_ hadn't stared at the group of teens…too much.

Only a few minutes later, Jesse and Leslie approached Mr. Burke and said they wanted to return to the hotel. They gave no explanation, but both were still a bit flushed. Jesse looked very uncomfortable.

"Jess, would you go on ahead? I'd like to talk with Les for a minute."

Jesse picked up his towel and sandals and headed back.

"Les, is Jess alright? I saw what happened." His daughter's face reddened again.

"Yeah, he was just, you know, with the girls like that. He said it wasn't right."

"How do you feel about it?" Bill didn't realize his question could be considered two very different ways.

Discomfited, Leslie shrugged and answered in clipped phrases, as best she could. "I don't know, Dad...I won't do it...in front of Jess, if that's what you're worried about." She abruptly turned and ran back to the hotel before her father asked any more questions.

That evening, the four had dinner in their room and played a few games of cards. They also planned their last two days in Europe; neither included more time at the beach, and they decided to leave Nice a day early, again on the TGV, and travel back to Paris. They would be leaving from Charles de Gaulle airport Saturday morning anyway, and that would allow them part of Thursday and all day Friday to tour around the city and perhaps stop a few famous sights. It was not difficult to convince Jesse to visit the Musée du Louvre.

As if a switch had been thrown, everyone's mood improved with the departure from the coast. Bill and Judy suspected that the culture-shock the kids experienced was too awkward. In the seats immediately to their front, Leslie and Jesse were coming to the same conclusion. Leslie apologized for the uncomfortable situation of the previous day, even though both knew it wasn't her fault. Still embarrassed, Jesse tried to brush it off, but his friend could tell it had really bothered him. She asked why.

"I-I guess it's like we learned at R.E., um, that's my Religious Education class on Sundays before church. Um, seeing _that_, is something that can, you know, get a guy in trouble."

Leslie was about to reply, but stopped and reconsidered what her mother had said about getting pregnant at fourteen. _We were curious, Les, and didn't see the harm…_ Here was the connection she was looking for. Here was what made her mother's statement make some sense. And Leslie appreciated, a little better now, why her parents seemed to be giving her mixed signals about proper behavior. They, too, she suspected, were still grappling with a few questions. And even though it would be many years before she fully understood what it was like to raise a child, and instill in them morals and propriety, Leslie was coming to see that life provided few clear-cut, yes/no answers for difficult questions.

She looked to her friend and wanted desperately to hug him; it was not so much because of her affection for him, but rather for comfort and security. She felt oddly vulnerable and confused. But he was looking away, contentedly, out the window, as the French countryside flew by.

* * *

The final two days in France were a blur of exhaustion and art. Jesse and Mrs. Burke spent nearly all day Friday in the Louvre while Leslie and her father went to Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower. Both groups had exciting stories to tell about their day. For Jesse it was a child tripping a security alarm by touching the frame of a famous Renoir. (It had actually been Mrs. Burke who slipped and fell into a security guard, pushing him into the painting, but she paid Jesse handsomely to alter the story.) Leslie entertained everyone, except her father, with the (true) story of Mr. Burke fighting off a flock of pigeons intent on joining them for lunch. She even pointed out a couple colorful 'scars' his shirt had earned as they retreated.

By Saturday, all four agreed they were more than ready to go home. The flight westward was seven hours and felt every minute of it. The food on Air France didn't compare with British Airways, and Mrs. Burke seemed to be catching a cold. She sneezed and blew her nose all the way back, complaining to her husband of head and back aches. The movies on the flight offered some relief, but only because Jesse and Leslie agreed that the films' overabundance of stupidity was better than boredom.

In two days, Jesse would be returning to counseling, with a few personal items to talk about, and his drawing lessons the following weekend. His dreams, up to that point, had been sedate, and only the one aborted migraine was unusual. But what he longed for most was being back in a familiar place, where everyone spoke the same language, and, aside from chores, he didn't have to be some place at a certain time. As he reclined his seat and closed his eyes, he found himself thinking back to the land across the creek: _Terabithia_, he and Leslie had called it. There was growing in him an odd desire to find a way across the creek without having to walk a half-mile upstream. He hadn't seen the old tree house in over a year, and wondered if it was still there, or blown apart during some wild summer thunderstorm. Feeling sleep overtake him, Jesse's mind wandered back to that horrible day when Leslie had almost died. He thought of her unmoving body only moments from death, her head covered in blood, his hideous nightmare of her drowning over and over….

Jesse began to see an image and hear a voice; his mind registered the sensations as a dream, but it was unlike any he had ever experienced. He tried to compel his mind to awaken and find Leslie, but instead he sank deeper and deeper into…something, like he was descending an endless escalator in a narrow tube. As floor after floor passed by, the image he was nearing became clearer and the voice deeper.

And then he reached the bottom.

The man facing him was vaguely familiar, with wild hair soaked by water, unshaven, and clothes dripping. There was a funny odor in the air, one he had smelled long ago, when he went hunting with his father. But it was the voice that was most unnerving. The specter was clearly talking to him, trying to make himself heard, but his mouth and the sounds didn't seem to be synchronized.

_Whatever this dream is_, Jesse thought, _it's real, like I can reach out and touch him…_

Both beings, boy and man, reached out together, almost as if they would shake hands. When their fingers touched, Jesse felt himself melt away, merging with the man.

The first thing the boy realized was that the man dreamt the same dreams about Leslie drowning, but the man's were profoundly deeper, darker, painful, as if he had really seen it happen.

_But that's impossible, Leslie didn't die. I saved her._

Other dreams passed before the boy's eyes. Horrible, painful, disjointed as they were, the boy wanted to cry out, but he couldn't.

He saw his father holding a boy as he wept.

He saw a boy walk into the Burke's house. He looked for Leslie but she wasn't there.

He saw Mr. and Mrs. Burke leaving, moving away, but Leslie wasn't with them.

He saw a boy punching Scott Hoager.

He saw an endless stream of sad faces go by the boy. They seemed to grow older, rapidly, and lose their sadness.

He saw May crying with the boy, but didn't know why.

He saw a boy breaking into his parent's room and stealing a bottle of liquor.

He saw a teen with a pad trying to sketch a face that was dimly recognizable. A girl's face. _Leslie's face_. But it looked little like the Leslie Burke he knew.

The scenes flew by faster now. The man was leading the boy through schools, clearly Lark Creek High School and then Virginia Tech.

He saw a young man, disheveled, unkempt, and working late at night on a complex mathematical equation. The sounds of a party nearby were plain to hear.

He saw a girl die, and thought his heart would stop. Brenda, lying dead on her bed, a needle in her arm.

At a cemetery someone was being buried: Brenda, the boy assumed. But there was a woman in black - his mother, older, but clearly Mary Aarons. She was crying, and his father was nowhere to be seen. Then the boy understood his father was dead.

As scenes flew by, the young man they were following turned into the man who was leading him.

He saw the man, not the one at his side, one just like him, swallowing a large bottle of pills.

He saw the man, not the one at his side, one just like him, in a hospital emergency room, covered in vomit.

He saw May with the man, but she was grown up, a beautiful young woman, pleading with the man. His head was turned away.

He saw the man, not the one at his side, one just like him, talking with some sort of scholar. Whatever the man said seemed to interest the scholar.

He saw the man, not the one at his side, one just like him, crossing a sturdy bridge across the creek, near where Leslie had nearly drowned. He looked like he was going to meet someone, but the scene shifted.

He saw the man, not the one at his side, one just like him, running through the rain; May was running behind him. She looked happy, like she was going to meet someone. But then she froze, the man froze, the scene shifted to Terabithia.

And the boy understood. _He_ was the boy he'd been watching grow. _He_ was the teen. _He_ was the man. He was seeing a life that never happened. And if that was true, then the man he met at the bottom of the escalator…was also him.

Then the man and boy separated again, as easily as they had merged a short while before. Jesse became aware of himself, and the incredibly odd dream he was a part of. His older self watched him sadly, like he wanted to say something.

"Are you me?" Jesse asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Why am I dreaming about you?"

"You're not."

Before Jesse could think another thought, or speak another word, a deathly familiar swirl of blackness covered him and his older self.

* * *

Leslie looked over to Jesse, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Rising, she took a blanket out of the overhead compartment and covered her friend. Then she raised the handle between their seats, reclining hers to match his, and moved over to be closer. He was breathing deeply, head turned slightly away. Leslie wasn't really tired, but she seldom had the opportunity to be this close to her best friend without him becoming nervous. Under the blanket, she felt about until she found his upper arm and placed her hand over it.

The giant Airbus droned on and on.

* * *

Bill and Judy Burke were surprised to find the kids asleep as their Captain announced the initial approach into Dulles airport two hours later. Unlike the outbound trip three weeks earlier, Judy felt more at ease with seeing her daughter curled up next to Jesse, and she took out her camera to snap a few pictures before waking the children. Leslie popped up immediately, but Jesse was sleeping deeply and they decided to leave him alone. Later, if the landing didn't awaken him, they would.

By the time the plane pulled into Gate 32 at the International Terminal, Jesse was finally moving, rubbing his eyes and fighting off the puzzlement of being on the ground. "What happened?" he asked Leslie, who was checking her backpack and slipping her feet into shoes.

"Nothing, you just slept for three hours. I did too. Mom woke me a little while ago." She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. "Gum?"

"What? Oh, sure, thanks."

"Better get ready, we'll be getting off in a second."

Jesse was finally awake enough to see out the window that they were stopped. He could feel and hear the large cargo doors beneath him opening and see the luggage train pull up. The engines were almost quiet but had left a slight ringing in his ears.

Leslie put her hand on his shoulder and startled him, he jumped up, banging his head smartly on the overhead storage compartment.

"You ok, there, Jess?" Mr. Burke asked.

Rubbing the spot that would soon turn into a lump, he nodded and sat again to collect his things. Just then the door opened to deplane the passengers and he felt Leslie's hand again.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, sorry, I was really out for a while."

"Sweet dreams?" she asked.

Jesse thought he would answer, but ignored her and got to his feet. A moment later they were walking down the corridor to the terminal and heading for customs.

"You ok, Jess?" Mr. Burke asked again.

"Yes, sir. I just had a strange dream, that's all."

His answer seemed to satisfy everyone, and they followed the crowd to the mobile lounges and then on to customs. An hour later, Bill had retrieved the car and they loaded it up with their luggage. As much as he wanted to get home, Jesse was thankful they were spending the night at Leslie's Aunt Joan's house. His head was aching from the lump he'd put on it and he didn't feel all that much like being in a car for four hours. In fact, he didn't feel like being around anyone.

Much of the silence on the car ride into Arlington was due to the general state of exhaustion from the trip, but Leslie was puzzled by her friend's remoteness. Since getting in the car, he had barely said two words to her and spent nearly the entire trip looking out the window. She was used to Jesse's moodiness, but this felt like more, almost as if he had regressed in a few hours to what he was like when they first met. As much as she wanted to talk to him, she remained silent – something quite difficult for her – and waited for the time alone with him at her aunt's house.

However, by the time they reached the house, unloaded, ate dinner, and visited with the relatives, it was late, and Jesse had long since excused himself and headed to bed. He and Leslie were sleeping on camping mattresses in the family room, an arrangement Judy was wary of, until she saw that she and her husband were staying in what had been, until very recently, an unfinished adjoining spare bedroom.

Leslie, tired, and now cranky because she wouldn't have a chance to talk with Jesse, headed to bed herself while the adults carried on with stories of the trip and Bill's book's successes. A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom wearing one of her father's old t-shirts and lay down. Jesse was sleeping only a couple feet away, but to Leslie it seemed like a mile. She got on her hands and knees, crawled over to her friend, and kissed him lightly on his head.

"What was that for?" a voice said.

Leslie jumped to her feet at the sound, looking guiltily for her mother or father. Then she realized it had come from Jesse. "_You scared me to death, Jesse Aarons_," Leslie shot back. "I didn't know you were awake." Still clutching her chest with both hands, she sat back on her mattress.

"Les, do you believe in reincarnation?"

_Where in the world did that come from?_ "I-I don't know, Jess…why?"

Completely awake, Jesse sat up, facing his best friend. "I had a dream on the plane. It was really weird. I mean _REALLY_ weird." He put a hand to his head and winced.

"_Hang on!_" Leslie shouted, a bit loudly. She bolted up the stairs and returned a minute later with a wet cloth. "Here, put this on your bump."

"Thanks."

Jesse and Leslie had shared many things as friends, but dreams were something they usually avoided, except for the horrible night terrors Jesse had about Leslie dying. Now, sitting in the quiet room, Leslie realized that was about to change.

"So…what about this dream? Was it one of those bad ones again?"

"No…and yes. It was much worse, but different. When I have the bad nightmares I always see you dead or dying." Leslie shivered involuntarily. Having someone talk so plainly about her death was unnerving. "It was like that in this one, too. But I knew you were alive so I wasn't, you know, freaking out."

"Yeah, we would have heard that on the plane, I think," she said lightly. But when she looked again at Jesse she could tell he was serious. "Sit with me?" She patted the mattress next to her. It was more comfortable than his, and they could lean back against the sofa. Jesse looked like he might not accept, but then jumped up and took up his spot. "There's more, isn't there?" Leslie prompted when he said nothing for a while.

"Yeah, a lot. The whole thing was like a science fiction horror movie about the life of this guy I met. But the guy was me, but he was older, maybe your parent's age. And May was there. And Brenda died, and my father…" He choked up, but quickly recovered. Leslie turned ninety degrees so she was facing him.

"And I saw his whole life, _my_ whole life, and it was awful…"

There was a noise on the stairs; Jesse ignored it but Leslie did not. It was her father. She waved for him to come down and join them. Jesse didn't object, in fact, he just kept talking.

"…He was so sad; he tried to kill himself...May was there with him at the hospital…"

"Les, what…?"

"Shhh," she shook her head at her father. Jesse continued.

"…He tried everything. You were dead, Les, like in the bad dreams…"

"This _isn't_ a bad dream?" Mr. Burke whispered. Leslie ignored him.

"…Like when I can't wake up unless you're there. But…but, I don't know. It got even stranger after that. I – he started to try to find you again, even though you were gone. He was acting crazy. But he was seeing a psychiatrist, too, for help."

In the background, Mrs. Burke had sat in the doorway to the room, listening in. At first she thought Jesse was telling a ghost story.

"…I saw my whole life…_HIS_ whole life. He found a way to…uh, I don't know how to explain it. He was going to send a message to me, but he had to send it back in time. He, uh, met with some guy in England, I know he was English, I could tell by his accent, and they worked together, by mail. And then he did it."

"Did what, Jess?" Mr. Burke asked. Jesse looked at him off-handedly, as if to say, _oh, when did you get here?_

"He found a way to do it, to send the message back to me."

"To you?" Mr. Burke asked again.

"Yeah, to me, back in time, so I could…keep Les from dying."

Leslie had become so engrossed by the scope and detail of the story that she hadn't noticed Jesse's face. Tears were running down his cheeks.

"What was the message, son?" Mr. Burke asked yet again. But this time he knew the answer.

"The older me said the message would be: 'Can Leslie come with us?' I mean, that was what he sent back to me…in the dream."

"Of course, in the dream," Mr. Burke repeated. "Wasn't that what you said to Ms. Edmonds, Jess? The day of the accident…She said that's what you said to her. And you've said it other times, too."

"Uh, yeah. Maybe that's why I dreamed it that way."

"Was that all, Jess?" Leslie asked, taking his hand in both of hers.

"No," he said, looking first at Leslie, and then her father. They waited silently. "I have to go to Terabithia."

Leslie gave him a funny look. "Jess, Terabithia isn't…"

"What's Terabithia?" Mr. and Mrs. Burke interrupted together.

"It was our…imaginary world, we were the king and queen, and made up all sorts of adventures. That's where Jess and I were in fifth grade when we went off together…"

"Went…where?" Mrs. Burke asked.

"It is…it was…" Leslie started, but Jesse finished.

"It's across the creek. We used that old rope to swing across and play in a tree house we fixed up. The rope was the only way to get over the creek. But we've only been there once since… since the accident."

"When the rope broke on me…that was the only time I had ever gone to our imaginary kingdom without Jess. But he was there, I mean - I was _planning_ to go by myself, but when I saw Jess running down the path I thought I'd try to get across first. Bad idea."

"Yeah," Jesse agreed quietly.

Leslie continued to hold Jesse's hand, waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted to share, but he seemed exhausted and ready to return to sleep. Her parents were exchanging worried looks. After a couple minutes of silence, Jesse crawled back to his bed, apologized for keeping them up, and said he wanted to go to sleep.

"Are you sure you're ok, Jess?" Mr. Burke asked, kneeling down next to him.

"Yes, sir. It was just a dream."

"Alright. If you need anything, Judy and I will be right there." He pointed to the open door, but Jesse's eyes were already closed.

Leslie's parents bid her goodnight and repeated what her father had just said to Jesse. She lay down, feeling helpless, wishing she could heal…something in her friend – whatever it was that was troubling him. _The funny thing is_, she thought dryly, _what's troubling him is what _didn't_ happen_.

After a few minutes the light in her parents room went out. Leslie lay awake, not really tired and not at all sleepy. She heard movement and felt her mother's hand on her arm.

"Les, why don't you move your bed a little closer to Jess's. It might make him feel better if he wakes up."

Leslie couldn't have been more astonished if Santa Claus had just popped into the fireplace. But she didn't argue. Rolling off the mattress, she pushed it up next to Jesse's.

"Not quite that close, sweetheart…there you go."

"Good night, Mom. Thanks."

"Good night, Les."

The sound of the creaking box spring in the new guest room proved Mrs. Burke was back in bed. Leslie turned to Jesse and reached over to where his hand was lying outside the blanket. She held it tenderly, wishing she were closer to him, but not willing to push her luck. After a while she, too, drifted off to sleep. Her last conscious thought was wondering why Jesse wanted to return to Terabithia.

* * *

"You awake?"

"Sorta. Wassup?"

"What did you think of that story?"

"He should try writing science fiction… Ouch!"

"I'm serious, Bill."

"So am I. It was a dream, Jude, why are you so worried?"

"Because he's had so many problems. Do you think he's…unstable?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"No."

"You're real helpful."

"That's what husbands are for. Good night, love."

"Bill?"

"_Yes_, Judith."

"Sorry, but…did you see the email from Jason Graham?"

"Which one?"

"From this afternoon. The one with the picture."

"Yeah, I saw it."

"Mary is going to go through the roof when she sees it."

"Then don't show it to her."

"_BILL!_"

"Ok, but what can I do?"

"Go with me when I tell Mary."

"Why, so her husband can use me for a punching bag?"

"Stop exaggerating…he won't hit you…more than a couple times."

"Oh, ha-ha, you're too funny."

"So…?"

"Ok, I'll go."

"Thank you, Mr. Famous author."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Won't-Let-Her-Husband-Sleep."

"That's right, my love."

"What's right?"

"I'm not going to let you sleep."

"Huh? Oh…come on, Jude, it's late."

"When has that ever stopped you?"

"True…You lock the door."

Revision 1.1, April 2008


	15. Part 3: The Summer

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 15 – The Summer**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

The final weeks of summer passed peacefully in Lark Creek. In the face of everything that was happening, that was something of a miracle.

The evening the four travelers returned from their overseas journey, Judy mentioned to Mary that he son was wonderful, but also that a couple things had occurred which they needed to talk about. Mary asked if her husband needed to be present and was told, "No, at least not yet."

Judy first went through the two occurrences of migraines and also noted the strange dream Jesse had had the previous evening.

Then she brought up the publicity Jesse had received, and the pictures of both Jesse and Leslie that had made the English tabloids. Judy was pleasantly surprised by Mary's reaction to her son's exposure; she and her husband had heard about Bill's success on the news one evening, so the first bit of information about the increased time spent signing books was not a shock.

The second was.

Both women had known something like this could happen, and had even discussed it a bit. Mary told her friend she would talk to Jack. "I'll handle him," Mary told her friend, and then thanked Judy warmly for all they had done for her son. But when Judy walked away she knew there would be repercussions, the question was, _how long? _And_ how bad?_ The answer took five weeks to arrive.

For Jesse Aarons, the last five weeks of summer passed in a blur of art lessons, counseling, chores, tests, a nagging inquisitiveness about his desire to 'visit' Terabithia caused by the dream, and…Leslie.

Just as Dr. Gilbert had predicted months earlier, the drawing lessons he was taking quickly turned boring. Tim Baker watched Jesse over a few short weeks and was humbled. He was not so much _teaching_ Jesse, he believed, as helping him _remember_ various techniques, as if he had always known them.

In his sessions with his counselor, Jesse shared his strange dream on the plane ride home, as well as Terabithia, but he was assured that highly imaginative people often have highly imaginative dreams.

Around his house, Jesse owed his sisters three weeks worth of chores, and they demanded payment for every minute. Needless to say, his free time was limited until mid-August.

He also had a follow-up EEG at Roanoke Valley Hospital and his parents a brief meeting with the same doctor they had met months earlier. The results showed no significant changes. Jesse, along with his parents, felt the day had been a complete waste.

In the final weeks of summer vacation, and to the delight of both, Jesse and Leslie's time together was becoming more frequent. They would spend long periods together, either jogging in the morning or meeting later in the day, when Jesse was available, for long walks in the wood and hills. All of the non-private-property within two or three miles of their homes had long ago been explored, so hikes into the mountains would sometimes keep them out six or seven hours at a time. Both were developing strong leg muscles and their stamina was as good as it had ever been. Seventh grade would be their first opportunity to participate in school-sponsored athletic activities, and the track and cross-country teams, they were sure, would welcome them.

Jesse, also, was going through another 'major growth spurt,' as his parents called it. Over the summer he had grown a further two inches, and his shoes had to be replaced immediately upon returning from Europe. (With the days of hand-me-down pink sneakers gone, new shoes were no longer a source of embarrassment.) In addition, his mostly lower-body exercises, jogging, hiking, and mountain climbing, had given him powerful legs and trimmed off any remaining 'baby fat' he was carrying. Sometimes his physical changes were annoying, like when his voice would crack, or he would trip over his ever-lengthening feet, but a comment from Leslie, whom he was looking up to more and more often as someone far beyond a friend, quickly calmed him.

Leslie was also enjoying her deepening affection with Jesse. His infuriating and inconsistent aversion to casual physical contact, however, drove her up the wall at times. Even holding hands while climbing rocks and hills was usually short-lived, though she never felt it was due to a lack of fondness on Jesse's part. They often parted in the evenings, whether after a long day of hiking or a brief visit, with a hug. Occasionally their hands and fingers lingered, touching, as they parted. But Leslie was becoming concerned that their close friendship would remain just that, and she had seen none of the signs she thought she would see by this time: that Jesse was even interested in kissing her again. She mentioned it to her mother one evening, in desperation. Her mother smiled and said she had to learn to be patient. It was the same message the mother had given her daughter nearly a year before. She also reminded her daughter about being thirteen before she could, "_Do any significant_ _necking_." Speechless and thoroughly mortified, Leslie left the room rapidly.

Her diary entry that night was particularly nasty towards her mother - and said she hated her again.

Jesse and Leslie had been planning a long hike into the mountains on August twenty-ninth, the first day of the 2008 Labor Day weekend. The weather was predicted to be clear and warm, the trails were dry, and both set off in a good mood. The first two miles took them down the familiar path along side the creek to where it split around a hill. From there they followed the northern branch until reaching a thick grove of pine. Here they ran into an old barbed-wire fence, long forgotten, and neglected to the point where trees had grown around the wire and it appeared that the sharp strands had been laid right through the tree trunks. Following the remnants of the fence for about half a mile, they came a point where the barrier had completely disappeared. Here they turned west again.

Checking their compass, something Jesse's father had told them to start carrying if they were going deep into the woods, they started climbing a hill about five hundred feet high. When they reached the top the scene was breathtaking. Looking east they could see the shallow valley where their houses where, but could not actually see them. To the north and south the Appalachians ran like a wall, impenetrable and dark green. And to the west was a valley, perhaps a mile across, thick with Hemlock, Pine, Cedar, and Maple. After a short rest, they decided to continue west to the next ridge. Jesse took out a rough map he'd been sketching, marking their progress.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Leslie as they were preparing to leave. "A nice spot for a house."

Jesse looked again at the magnificent view and chuckled. "Yeah, beats downtown Lark Creek." Then, surprising Leslie, Jesse took her hand and they began the decent from the hill; the rough terrain, however, forced them to let go after only a couple minutes so they could better maintain their balance.

A half hour later, their progress slowed by thick undergrowth at the foot of the hill, they came upon what looked like a seldom used dirt road that paralleled a small brook. Jesse pointed to his left, south, and they followed the road. Five minutes later they came to a bend in the road and, about three hundred yards in the distance, saw a smallish log cabin, obviously very old, and obviously occupied. There were a few chickens scratching for food in the roughly hewn grass lawn. The distinctive clanging of a cow's bell could be heard somewhere in the distance, and there were at least three dogs lounging on the front porch of the cabin. Walking a little further, they came to an old and apparently seldom used mailbox; it had written upon it in faded black paint: J. Boone.

Both their parents had warned the kids repeatedly about respecting private property, and neither Jesse nor Leslie had any intention of continuing on until they heard a noise – a familiar noise. Running from the cabin, past the old hound dogs who were ignoring the visitors, was a small white mutt with black patches around its eyes. It was barking madly and running at its fastest, towards them.

"PT?" Jesse said to Leslie, who had placed her hands over her mouth in disbelief. She, too, had just realized who the dog was. Leslie took off at a sprint, when she was about to collide with the dog, PT jumped up into her arms and started licking her face madly. Jesse arrived a few seconds later.

"Yep, that's PT. Where you been, boy?" The dog recognized Jesse and started squirming to be set down, but Leslie, beaming, handed him to Jesse.

"I can't believe this. How did he get here?"

"I don't know. The creek runs the other way, he was being swept away in the opposite direction," Jesse answered, now having _his_ face licked frantically.

"What should we do? I don't think we can just take him."

Jesse frowned; he didn't want to get into a custody feud with some wild back-woodsman. "I guess we should find out who lives here and ask." Leslie agreed and they headed forward.

Whey they had approached to within fifty yards of the cabin, the three old dogs finally looked up at their guests. All three hounds acted like they were sniffing the air to see if Leslie and Jesse had the proper scent to be there. Then they returned to sleeping.

"Some watchdogs, eh?" Jesse laughed.

"Oh, they'll do," came a gruff voice.

Startled, the kids turned and found themselves facing an old man carrying an ancient hunting rifle. He had a weatherworn face, was tall and thin, and Jesse thought he might be related to Jed Clampett from the clothes he wore. He had come up on them quietly, almost as if he had appeared by magic. Both hikers began to apologize for intruding, but the old man held up his hand to silence them.

"That's no trouble, you two. Don't get much in the way o' visitors here." He squinted at PT. "Seems like you know these two." Jesse finally set the dog on the ground where he started running circles around the three humans, yapping happily.

"Yes, sir," Jesse answered, "His name it PT, and we lost him a year ago last April, he was washed away in Lark Creek by a storm. We reckoned he was dead."

They had reached the cabin and the man motioned for them to sit while he set his rifle down and began to take it apart. It looked like he was going to clean it. "Yep, he almost _was_ dead when I found him. 'Bout the same time, too." The man went back to cleaning the rifle.

"Um, Mr. Boone," said Leslie meekly, "do you think we can have him back?"

"Oh, sure. He's a little too excitable for these other three lazy blobs o' fat." He gave the three hounds a disgusted look. "Don't do nothing but eat, crap, and bring in fleas and ticks. Chases the occasional postman sometimes, too, if they're feelin' up to it."

Delighted with their discovery, Jesse and Leslie wanted to return home immediately, but the old man started rambling on about the mountains and himself, and what started as a friendly conversation turned into a very long story about Mr. Boone's life. Before anyone realized it, noon was upon them and Mr. Boone announced lunch time. Jesse and Leslie were invited to share some of their host's bear or deer jerky, but politely declined; they had brought bag lunches. Mr. Boone fetched a water jug out of his house and filled it from a well that looked like nothing more than a wooden crate sitting in the yard. He offered the kids a drink but they held up their bottles of Gatorade.

"Suit yourself," he said.

Next he pulled a slightly withered carrot from his pocket, setting it next to the jug, and went back to the house, this time returning with a potato and a tin cup. When he had set everything on the rickety homemade table in from of him, he drew out a wicked looking Bowie knife. Methodically, patiently, one bite at a time, he cut a piece of carrot, stabbed it with the tip of the knife, and dipped it into the tin cup before eating it. Leslie found this particularly interesting, as she had never eaten unpeeled carrots or potatoes. When the man saw her watching he went on eating and explaining at the same time.

"These plants have a lot of vitamins stored in their skins. Better to eat them whole."

"Is that why you wash them, Mr. Boone? Because they are aren't peeled?" Jesse asked, as the man dipped a slice of potato in the cup.

He looked at the kids curiously for a second and then laughed. "I ain't washing 'em, son." Then he picked up the cup and held it under Jesse's nose. He sniffed.

"Vinegar? You're dipping them in vinegar?"

"Yep. Homemade apple cider vinegar. Try one?" He cut another small piece of potato, dipped it in the vinegar, and offered it to Jesse on the tip of the knife. "Go on, try it, won't kill yah."

Jesse turned and gave Leslie a funny look. Leslie, in turn, rolled her eyes. "Here, Jess, I'll try it first, you big wimp."

The old man smiled at the kids, clearly amused. Leslie took the slice of potato and ate half of it. Jesse watched her, waiting for his friend to spit it out.

"Not bad. Here…" She held the other half in front of Jesse's mouth. When he wouldn't open, she began to taunt him. "Come on, baby Jesse, eat your veggies."

Jesse stuck out his tongue and then bit aggressively at the half slice.

"_OUCH! You bit me,_" Leslie complained, as Jesse started chewing the morsel, though she didn't look all that put out. The old man thought this exchange was tremendously funny and nearly fell out of his chair laughing.

Over the next hour, Jesse and Leslie learned much about their new acquaintance, and a little about his life in the Roanoke area. They were given a tour of his 'farm,' as he called it, although it was little more than a cabin with a few mean outbuildings. There was no running water, (a fact that made Leslie not bother to ask about using the bathroom,) no electricity, and an old pot-belly stove for heat in the winter. The huge pile of hand-cut wood a few feet from the cabin's back door not only confirmed the source of his winter warmth, but also to the man's apparent excellent health. Jake Boone, as he'd formally introduced himself, had lived at the cabin for nearly sixty years, and the land had been held by his family since the early eighteenth century. He said he had some nieces and nephews somewhere, but couldn't recall their names.

"No one's visited me in over a year, and the last person was the mail man bringing me my tax bill. Don't that beat all?" He also laughed at his own jokes, a lot. "Had to walk into town to pay the darn thing. Come to think of it, wonder why the mailman didn't come by this April…maybe I should git into town and make sure I'm not gonna be evicted." He pronounced the word: _eee-victed_. "That'd be when I found your dog. Wonder why he didn't find his way back to your place."

"Oh, we hadn't had him long; he was a stray, Mr. Boone."

"And what do yeh call 'im?"

"Uh, PT, that's short for Prince Terrian," Jesse said.

"Strange name, that is. I just called him Mutt, or Boy."

"Jess, we better get going, it's almost two," Leslie pointed out.

Jumping up, the kids apologized for their abrupt departure, but Mr. Boone waved them off.

"Go on, go on. You two come back some time 'fore it gets too cold, I'll show you some of my secret places up here in the hills."

The friends bid farewell and set off at a brisk pace, led by Leslie, with PT trailing happily in the rear. Jesse asked her what her hurry was but she wouldn't say anything until they were back in the thick underbrush at the base of the hill.

"Lord, Jess, I thought he'd never stop talking. Stay here." She ran off behind an impenetrable copse of Mulberry and Mountain Laurel bushes and appeared two minutes later looking very pleased. "When he said he didn't have running water I wasn't about to ask to use the outhouse."

"Awww, why'd you have to say that?" he groaned, and ran off behind another bush. Both laughed when he returned and then started up the hill.

An hour later Jesse and Leslie eased their pace as they approached the old barbed wire fence. It was three-thirty and they estimated the old man's cabin was at least six mile behind them, with two more to go before reaching home. Since they had been running or jogging most of the past ninety minutes, both were hot and sweaty, but neither was very winded, proof of their excellent health and stamina. Back in the shade, they started chatting about the summer and all the things that had happened and they had done. Both surprised the other by saying they were looking forward to seventh grade. (Leslie more so than Jesse.) They also bemoaned the fact that they only had one of their two electives together: Intro to Foreign Language, a semester-length course that exposed them to Spanish, Latin, French, German, Italian, and Japanese, to help them decide on which language they would study in high school. Leslie's other elective was Tech Tools for which she demonstrated her interest by miming vomiting.

"What are you complaining about? I have Home Economic," said Jesse, "Try to teach me to be a girl, I bet."

"What's wrong with that? Maybe you'll learn to wash your clothes and cook," she shot right back.

They ended up shoulder to shoulder, laughing at their own silliness.

"Come on, PT, got to get you home and give you a bath," Leslie said to the trailing canine.

"He's covered in ticks, Les. I can take them off but you'll need to get him to a vet. The ticks around here carry diseases. And don't take him in your house or you'll have fleas everywhere."

Leslie looked disgusted and started unconsciously scratching her leg. "My parents are going to kill me. I forgot about that."

"Don't worry, I can take him first and get him cleaned up. But you'll need to…you know, I don't think Dad will take him…" Jesse was becoming embarrassed and blushing. Leslie had forgotten the Aarons didn't have much money; she felt rotten.

"No, it's ok, Jess. You clean him up and I'll take him to the vet. How's that?"

They shook on it, but didn't let their hands go, both suddenly shy.

"I don't like walking backwards, Jess," Leslie said bashfully, then switched to hold Jesse's right hand with her left so they could proceed more easily. It took an hour to walk the last two miles.

They first stopped at Jesse's house to tie up PT, and Jesse went inside to let his parents know he was back. Mrs. Aarons said they were having a late dinner and that the Burke's had called to invite him over. Elated, Jesse stuck his head out the door and told Leslie the news. She was about to trot off to get showered, but Jesse called to her.

"Hey, I had a great time today." He gave his best friend a huge smile. "See you in a little bit."

Leslie smiled and waved, and then ran home to get ready for her guest.

Jesse got PT a bowl of water and some scraps of food before getting himself cleaned up. After showering, he found May in their room where she was playing with her friend Cassidy. She waved to him and returned to a very intense game of cut-throat _Go Fish_. On the way out, he ran through the kitchen, but stopped to give his mother a hug. Mary nearly dropped the pork chops she was breading, but then smiled to herself after her son had gone.

When he arrived at Leslie's house, her parents were at the picnic table on the deck, sitting opposite the other, but with the fingers of both hands entwined. They appeared to be gazing into each other's eyes and didn't notice their guest. Hearing a door open, Jesse turned and saw Leslie, cleaned and dressed casually, coming out to meet him. They walked to the front of the house where Jesse asked what her parents were doing.

"They had a fight," she explained.

"What? They look happy to me."

Leslie looked back to where her parents were sitting, still blissfully unaware of anything going on around them. "They are, now. Dad's publisher called and wants him to go on tour for two weeks in Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, next month."

"That's good…isn't it?"

"It's right before the baby's due."

"Oh, then I guess your mother wasn't real happy." Leslie just nodded. "What's he going to do?"

"He'll probably go, but schedule the Washington appearances around the due date. Come on, let's go for a walk; they're going to be like that for a while." Smiling, she offered Jesse her hand, and when he took it immediately, she sighed contentedly to herself.

When the kids returned thirty minutes later, Leslie's parents were still sitting with their fingers locked firmly together. Jesse commented that their hands must be cramped up. Silently, Leslie led him over to the table and sat him down next to her father and herself across from Jesse, next to her mother. She held out her hands for Jesse to take, winking when he gave her a puzzled look. Then he understood what she was doing. They entwined their hands and stared at each other, trying not to burst out in laughter.

A moment later they got a response. "Aw, aren't you two adorable!" Mrs. Burke said. Both kids laughed then, and letting go of the other's hands, sat back.

Mr. Burke nudged Jesse with his elbow. "Takes years of practice to do that properly, Jess." Then he jumped up and went to turn on the gas grill. "Salmon or steak, you two?"

"You get steak," Leslie said to Jesse, "I'll have salmon. We can share."

He agreed and told Mr. Burke one of each.

Over dinner, a while later, Jesse and Leslie gave a summary of what they had done that day and the man they had met. At the mention of Mr. Boone, Mrs. Burke looked peeved, but that passed quickly as they told about having lunch with him and finding their long lost dog.

"Sounds like an interesting guy. Going to go back tomorrow?" Mr. Burke asked.

"No, we have church in the morning and it would be too late. And on Monday we have the picnic," Jesse explained.

"That's right; maybe next weekend, then."

When the meal was over, Jesse and Leslie volunteered to do the dishes and left the adults to, "_Rest_." Both adults smiled begrudgingly at the innocent comment from their guest. Inside, the cleaning rapidly degenerated into a soap-suds fight at the kitchen sink that left both kids trying to rinse the stinging soap out of their eyes while still laughing.

"What do you want to do now," Jesse asked when they were finished.

Leslie thought for a few seconds. "Want to see my room? You've never been up there."

Jesse shrugged and was pulled onward by his friend. "Don't look that way," Leslie said, upon reaching the second floor and pointing to one of the rooms. "That's my parent's bedroom, and it's always a mess." A few steps later Jesse received his first look at his best friend's room.

The room was painted a medium blue on two walls, the other two covered in wallpaper with blue and white vertical stripes, the blue ones matched the color of the paint. Along the top of the walls, around the perimeter the room was a border with a floral motif. The floors were hardwood. It seemed more masculine than he thought a girl's room should be, but he kept his opinion of that to himself. On the opposite wall were a number of shelves, all filled with books of varying size and thickness. Jesse stepped in to look at them but only recognized a couple titles. There was also a small pile of books on the floor next to Leslie's bed. She saw him looking at them. "Those are ones I'm reading now."

"There's…how many? Eight?! How do you keep them all straight?"

"Well, I've read all of those already. I'll pick up one at night to read for a few minutes, when I don't have a new one to read." She sat on her bed and patted the quilt next to her. Jesse looked, shook his head, and made a cutting motion across his throat with a finger. Leslie laughed. "No she won't. _Sit!_" It was more of an order this time.

Jesse looked around a bit uncomfortably and then turned his attention back to the books. "Which is your favorite?"

Jumping up, Leslie went to a shelf and pulled out a maroon cardboard box that held six thin paperback books. "I like this series the best," she said, sitting back down next to him. "They're really for younger kids, but they read easily." Leslie handed the box to Jesse.

"_The American Girl Series_?" Jesse read aloud. "What's it about…besides girls?"

"This one is about Samantha, she lived in 1904 and…don't look at me like that! They aren't complicated, but they are interesting."

"Ok, if you say so."

Leslie grabbed the book from Jesse's hand and whacked him playfully on the head. Then she returned it to the shelves. "Expand your mind, Jess. Try something like _The Hardy Boys_. They're mysteries…for _boys_."

He gave a non-committal grunt.

"Hey, Les, Jess?" Mrs. Burke called from downstairs. Jesse shot up and off the bed instantly. "Want to get some ice cream?"

"Sure," they answered together.

Later that evening, Leslie walked Jesse part of the way home. She was feeling better about their relationship than she had in weeks. Jesse seemed to have relaxed his reluctance to hold her hand, and more than once she caught him looking at her. The rapidity of this change didn't bother her, either; she felt it was long overdue. She had been trying to follow her mother's advice and be patient, but at times it was very difficult. This evening was one of those times.

As they strolled slowly, holding hands, into the blackness that separated their houses, neither spoke, but both were thinking back on what a wonderful day they had had together. It had felt, to both, like the best day ever, even better than their days at the beach or playing games with the merchants in Edinburg. The frogs croaking, crickets chirping, and owls hooting filled the air with the sounds of the forest and hills and both held the other's hand a little tighter. About half way home, Jesse stopped.

"Les?" Jesse whispered. "You hear that?"

"No. What is it? No, never mind, I don't care…" Expecting…_hoping_ Jesse would kiss her – or at least pull her into a hug – Leslie tried to put her arms around him.

"Les?"

"Shhh." _Stop being difficult, Jesse!_

"I hear something, Les."

"Oh, just be quiet, will you?" she said, a bit aggravated.

"We need to move, Les…"

"No way."

She felt Jesse relax again, then he startled her with his words. "We're in trouble, now, Les."

"_Jesse Aarons, what IS it?_ Is your father or mine watching us?"

"_WHAT?_ No, but they are."

Leslie, finally realizing something truly _was_ amiss, leaned back. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the quarter moon, but when she looked around she saw nothing, and said so.

"Look _down_, Les," Jesse said; his voice had a hint of irritation in it…and something else, too.

"What _is_ that?" Leslie asked, taking a step towards the side of the drive, but Jesse grabbed her roughly and answered with a very unusual statement:

"Stop. Remember this, Les: a quart of hydrogen peroxide, a quarter cup of baking soda, and a teaspoon of dish detergent. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"Shhh, look." Jesse, making small, slow movements with his hand, pointed to five dark unmoving spots on the ground around them. "There's the mother, baby one, baby two, baby three, baby four. Mother skunks don't like humans around their litter. On the count of three, run home. And don't step on one of them."

"_Oh, Jess_," Leslie moaned.

"One, two, three…_RUN!_"

A couple seconds later, it registered on Jesse that _'fart'_ was no longer the most vulgar word in Leslie's vocabulary. Or his, for that matter.

* * *

"_Mother, I am NOT going to do that!_" Leslie shouted angrily, standing under the deck, with a pail of the cleaning solution Jesse had told her about just before they parted a half-hour earlier. Most of the last thirty minutes she spent feeling sick to her stomach from the nauseating scent that seemed to permeate every part of her body.

"Then you aren't coming in the house. I'll get you a pillow; you can lie in the grass…with the spiders, snakes, and mosquitoes. But you won't be allowed inside tomorrow either, unless you are skunk-free." Judy Burke started to pull the sliding door closed.

"_NO!_ Alright, I'll do it. Just make sure Dad's not around. _Or Jess_."

"I have a feeling Jess is going through the same procedure at his house. When you're finished, wrap a towel around yourself and I'll check you out. Not a toe inside if you have…"

"_I KNOW_…just…go away." She started removing her clothes as soon as her mother turned out the light. She was angry about the shorts, they were her favorites. When fully undressed she picked up the pitcher of warm water her mother had brought down and poured it over her head. Then, with grim determination, as well as a keen desire for speed, she took the sponge and started washing herself with the skunk-cleaning solution.

It worked amazingly well, and only took twenty minutes of standing in her birthday suit, in her back yard, to smell presentable again. It would have gone faster, too, if she hadn't jumped for a towel each time she heard a sound in the woods behind the house. Upstairs she heard her parents laughing.

_Probably about me!_

With the cleansing complete, she rinsed with the tepid water from the garden hose, hoping she would finish before the liquid, warmed by the sun earlier in the day, ran out and she was shocked with the colder underground water. She just made it, and passed her mother's inspection a minute later. Grumbling and near tears with embarrassment, Leslie headed up stairs to shower more thoroughly, and in private.

Down the road, Jesse faced the same embarrassing cleansing, but he knew what to expect; this was the third time he'd been sprayed by a skunk. When he arrived home he ran up to the front door, pressed the doorbell, and retreated a respectful distance, waiting for someone to answer. It was Ellie. She laughed at his predicament, but told her brother to wait by the back door for the towels, sponge, and cleanser. Having been with Jesse the first time he'd been sprayed, five years earlier, she was more sympathetic to his plight. It also helped that she had been responsible for _that_ disaster. And she remembered her total humiliation of having to strip and help scrub down her seven year old brother. She was twelve at the time.

* * *

By Monday morning, Jesse was ready to go postal, though he had not determined _all_ the reasons why.

His mother was one, he knew. She was in bed (or the bathroom) with the flu, and he'd been required to work with Brenda and Ellie preparing for the Labor Day picnic, even though their mother's presence was now questionable. The yearly potluck and Labor Day picnic was a grand affair at their church, and heavily attended, usually more so than at Easter, due primarily to the likelihood of good weather. And with the large number of guests expected, more of Mrs. Aarons' locally celebrated potato salad would be needed. Jesse grumbled in amusement at the name of the dish, potato salad; _refrigerator surprise_ seemed more appropriate. Above and beyond the indispensable potatoes, there were hard-boiled eggs, tuna, celery, mayonnaise, mustard, salt, pepper, paprika, and a little red onion mixed together and sitting on a bed of iceberg lettuce. Sliced tomatoes, parsley, and black and/or green olives topped each of the four large bowls they were bringing. It had taken two days of pealing, boiling, cutting, de-shelling, mixing, and arranging to meet their mother's high standards, but _both_ parents declared the product satisfactory. The final step in the process was making room for the four bowls in their refrigerator, and in spite of their best efforts it simply would not work. One call to Judy Burke, however, took care of the problem, as the Burkes would be attending the picnic also.

His father was another reason for his aggravated state. All day Saturday, while he was hiking with Leslie, Jesse had been working up the courage to speak with his father about… _girls_. He wanted to make the conversation as generic as possible, even _if_ his father knew exactly where the direction of his affections rested. And since April, the physical signs of adolescence had been becoming more obvious to Jesse and he found only so much information in the FLE pamphlets now hidden in his desk. He had questions about the mechanics of certain processes, how his feelings towards, well, _everything,_ were changing, and other topics that had to _occur_ in his approaching teen years, but were clearly not covered in his dismal desk library. Saturday night was out, what with the skunk event. Sunday after Mass, his father had to do some overtime at John Deere, and after Monday school started and Jesse felt his time slipping away. As the Monday morning potato salad creation progressed, and the day turned into Monday afternoon, Jesse barely had time to wash up for the picnic and abandoned his quest for knowledge until the following weekend.

May was reason number three. Her friend, Cassidy, had spent Friday and Saturday night, sleeping on the floor in their room. It was bad enough having one girl invading his privacy, at least she was his sister, but a second one felt downright invasive. And starting Sunday morning she began making comments about a skunk. Jesse knew why. Even though he himself was scent-free, the oily musk he had washed off persisted in the grass behind the house. That would take a couple more days to fade away.

Jesse's last reason for being unusually angry was – he thought, he wasn't _sure_ – because he had wanted to be with Leslie on Sunday but it didn't work out. Between her family activities and his potato salad duty, they shared little more than a brief phone call the previous night. So all day Sunday, through church, peeling potatoes, and removing egg shells, he became more and more cantankerous. This, coupled with the other irritants, made Jesse a poor candidate for a pleasant companion at the picnic.

Walking to the truck Monday afternoon, Jesse pondered his state of mind.

_Is this one of the things I can look forward to as an adolescent? Short temper? Easily irritated? Wild mood swings? Feeling 'down?' Yeah… welcome to puberty, Jess!_

The amusing part about that Monday afternoon and evening, it turned out, was that Jesse Aarons was about to experience nothing of what he had feared. But that, too, is a symptom of adolescence. And falling in love.

Jesse and his father spoke little on the way to church, but that was not uncommon for them. Jack was not a demonstrative or talkative man. But you did have to know when to listen to him. So while the father was not at all bothered by the silence, the son sat, steaming and stewing in his self-pity, waiting to see Tom Jacobs flirting with Leslie Burke. _Hoping to see Tom Jacobs flirting with his girl_. Jesse was quite certain that he would be dragged home after punching out the recently transferred student; he even felt it might be a bit fun.

Jack heard his son crack his knuckles. "Planning on fightin' someone today, son?"

Jesse very nearly said yes. "Um, no, sir." _Not unless I have to. And I expect I'll have to…_

"Good idea. Your mother might stop by later after all; she said she was feeling better today. Wouldn't do for her to find you tied to a tree, or shut up in the car, would it?"

Jesse knew his father was looking at him, but he refused to acknowledge him except with a short, noncommittal grunt. This was not a particularly smart decision, most of the time, but he got away with it that day.

Arriving at the church shortly thereafter, Jesse and his father carried their culinary contribution over to the large tent being set up for the many expected bowls, platters, crock-pots, plates, and baskets. They were among the first to arrive and pitched in to assist others setting up tables, chairs and the many other items required for such an event. Jesse volunteered to assist with helping in the parking lot, one of the less desirous jobs as the helpers had to carry in food, usually on large, heavy, and/or hot platters, all the while dodging other cars and the pets people were not supposed to bring, but always did. But Jesse's real reason for taking on the job was that he wanted to see Leslie as soon as possible.

By four in the afternoon, the church grounds were crowded with scores of families. The Aarons were settled at their table, except Ellie who was off looking for the boy she'd been seeing off and on for a few weeks, and Brenda, who was off looking for _any_ boy. The celebration was scheduled to begin with a brief ceremony honoring those who had fought and died while building their country. Many present wore shirts or hats signifying their labor union. One of the county's oldest residents, Mick Saran, a one hundred and four year old World War I veteran who had lied about his age to join the Army, was the unofficial master of ceremonies. Mick's son, Mike, himself a Korean War veteran and local union head, began the festivities while his father dozed in his wheel chair at his side.

Miraculously, the weather held out all weekend and even in mid-afternoon the temperature was only around eighty. With the accompanying northerly breeze, it promised to be an excellent evening, just as Easter had been five months earlier. Jesse, still hanging around the parking lot, waiting for the Burkes to appear, was pacing back an forth, trying to herd off a small group of pets who had picked up the scent of the food tent. Mike Saran's opening comments about pets did little to help Jesse's job or mood. A half-hour earlier he gave a reluctant greeting to Tom Jacobs and his sister who, having changed much since he saw her last Easter, he barely recognized. Then, just as the ceremony was finishing with the first verse of the National Anthem, the Burke's car pulled up. Jesse ran over, suddenly excited.

"He, kid, give us a hand with the food, would ya?" Mr. Burke teased.

"Sure, where is she…I-I mean it?"

"_IT_ is in the back seat being held by Leslie," Mrs. Burke said, annoyed. Jesse, who had completely forgotten about the dogs, Tom Jacobs, and the National Anthem, ran to the other side of the car and opened Leslie's door. Mrs. Burke's irritation clearly did not register on him in the least.

"Hey!"

"Hi. Um, I'll take that," Jesse said, pulling the large pot out of his friend's hands. "Come on, you gotta see this, Les." In a small cloud of dust, the two kids walked off.

Bill Burke started laughing. "Jeez, he's got it bad."

"Yeah, _imagine that_."

Bill put the car in gear and drove off to find a parking space. "Come on, Jude, it was a slip of the tongue. Give the kid a break. They had a wonderful day Saturday, all things considered, and school starts tomorrow. He's probably just blowing off the last of his summer steam."

"Fine, Bill, as long as Les doesn't get burned by it," Judy snapped, then turned to look out the window.

Knowing there was no point in continuing the discussion, Bill remained quiet. And he knew why his wife was upset, too. He'd received an email message that morning about the tour schedule and there had been no changes made to accommodate the baby's due date: October 27th. In spite of the efforts to contact his publishers, Taylor & Hunter, and insist (again) on a change, Judy had given him the silent treatment. She banished him from the kitchen and went to work on a large pot of Shrimp Creole, her favorite southern dish.

The Aarons and Burkes had a table reserved for their families at dinner, and it was the first time since before the Europe trip Bill Burke and Jack Aarons had been face to face. The tension was obvious, but not enough to ruin the day. Bill had tried to speak with his neighbor but they kept missing each other. He wanted to apologize for the picture of their kids in the British tabloid; he didn't really believe explaining why these things happen would do any good, so he didn't plan on addressing that issue. Unfortunately, it was the first thing Jack asked his neighbor about. That conversation went on through dinner and well into the evening and only ended when Bill said he could "_Use a belt_," meaning a strong drink. A short while later, their wives saw them walking out to the truck with plastic cups filled with ice. They looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

Judy and Mary, too, were enjoying their first time together in almost a month. Mary had assured Judy that she would, "Take care of my husband," concerning the tabloid pictures. But Judy still felt hesitant to wander over to her friend's house to visit. And to be honest, she was trying to finish a chapter of her latest book before the baby arrived, and didn't want another distraction. As soon as they were together, though, it was as if a day hadn't passed and both caught the other up on what they'd been doing.

"The baby, obviously. It's all I think about…well, almost all. Leslie is so excited; I hope she feels that way once it's arrived."

"I'm sure she will, Jude. She's a wonderful child."

"Yes," Judy smiled a bit deviously, "most of the time. I can't believe she'll be thirteen soon."

Mary gave her friend a knowing look. "So, did you get all the skunk musk out of the house?"

"It never even got in. I made Les," Judy lowered her voice, "strip in the back yard and scrub herself down until she was clean. I never saw her finish a chore that quickly." Both women laughed.

"It was pretty much the same with us, but Jess knew what to expect. Ellie fetched the cleaning solution and all's well."

"Ellie seems to have, uh, _changed_ a lot recently. I don't see her harping on Jess much any more."

"Nice, isn't it?" Mary said, clearly relieved by the siblings' improved relationship. "She has a somewhat steady boyfriend now, too, and that probably helps. He's here somewhere."

"Speaking of steady boyfriends… our kids are becoming inseparable." Judy truly didn't mean anything by this comment, but she _had_ spoken the magic word, _boyfriend_, in describing their kid's relationship. It was a first.

It took a few seconds for Mary to respond. She had been, just then, watching Jesse and Leslie standing by the food tent talking very absorbedly about something. "Yeah, something of a blessing and curse, don't you think?" Judy nodded silently. It was exactly the way she was feeling about it.

"Mary…I want you to know…they're so young. If it doesn't work out between them, I…hope we remain friends."

"We will, Jude. I just hope the kids will, also."

* * *

Walking around on the far side of the picnic grounds, partly obscured from the crowds by the enormous food tent, Jesse and Leslie chatted on as if they hadn't see each other in months. "So, um, ready for another year of school?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah, I think so. You know, this summer's been so boring. Even school will seem fun." Both started giggling.

"Do we need to start making plans for Hoager?"

"You better watch out, Jess! I haven't seen him all summer. Maybe he's six foot three and can pound you into the ground now." Leslie brought this off with such complete sincerity that Jesse thought she was truly concerned about it. When he saw her mouth break into a smile, he knew he was being had.

As the afternoon turned into evening, the air cooled and families began to pack up. School started in only twelve hours and kids needed to be bathed, reassured, soothed, and prodded. Jesse and Leslie managed to steal away for a few minutes on the other side of the church where they sat on the steps to the side entrance. Leslie was leaning into Jesse and he had put his arm around her shoulder. Jesse thought the night couldn't be much better. He had managed to keep himself and Leslie away from Tom Jacobs, and had been with Leslie pretty much the entire evening.

"You, uh, look nice, Les," Jesse said, trying to make conversation.

"Thank you," she responded sincerely, though she knew Jesse had said it more because he thought he _should_ say it more than any other reason.

"You wanna try to see Mr. Boone next Saturday?"

"Yeah, that sounds like fun."

"Maybe we can, you know, keep away from the skunks, too."

Leslie laughed, and then brought up the topic _she_ wanted to discuss. "You know, Jess, seventh graders get their own after school parties. The first one is the end of the month." _Let's see how he handles this!_

Jesse cringed, knowing full well what his friend was doing. The seventh grade _parties_ were really _dances_. Of course, few kids that age danced, especially not boys. "Yeah, um, I think I heard that."

"Planning on going?"

_Please, Lord, let it start raining, hard…NOW_. "Uh, guess so, maybe, yeah, I don't know..." _Good, Jesse, real smooth. _Leslie giggled in a way that made Jesse feel far less comfortable than he had already been feeling.

_Just ask her, you know you're going to, eventually._

Jesse noticed that Leslie had placed her hands on his left knee. _That explains the shaking leg… _"Um… are you going?"

Leslie sat back and pulled her hands to her lap. "I suppose it depends on who it is that asks me," she said in a very thoughtful fashion.

_She's playing with you, mate. Just ask her and get it over with. Hey look! Here comes Tommy Jacobs!_

"Would you go with me, Les?" Jesse blurted out, so fast he was afraid he might have to repeat it. _Wait a minute, I don't see him anywhere…!_

_Gotcha!_

"Yes, I'd love to," she replied, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Oh…good," Jesse eventually managed to say, just as he began to hope for rain again. "I guess we...um, better get back, our parents are probably looking for us."

"Yes, I suppose…I had a good time tonight, Jess. In fact, I had a wonderful weekend. Thanks." Leslie's face was still very close to his, he could feel her breath, but he dared not turn towards her.

Feeling suddenly horribly uncomfortable, and wishing desperately he had spoken to his father, or any knowledgeable person for that matter, Jesse jumped up and held out his hand. That, at least, was something he wasn't quite so squeamish about any more. Together they walked back to the picnic area, hand-in-hand.

"Summer's over, Jess," Leslie sighed as they approached their table.

"Yeah, another summer's gone."

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	16. Part 3: The Courier

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 16 – The Courier**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

At first, Jesse Aarons believed he might have set a new school record. Five minutes after he walked into the school building, and three minutes after he started trading insults with Scott Hoager, he was headed to the Assistant Principal's office. Leslie Burke arrived separately, not a minute later, giving Jesse a confused and questioning look. Before either could ask the other what was happening, Jamie Beltz and Janet Shields, fellow seventh graders whom both knew only slightly, entered and sat in the rapidly filling waiting room. And then, Bobby Soon, an eighth grader who Leslie _did_ know from pre-algebra, joined the throng. And they sat. Jesse was a bit afraid to ask Leslie if she knew what was going on, as the previous three times he had started, another student appeared.

Just as the eight o'clock bell rang, signaling the start of first period, a man, possible a teacher – no one said they knew who he was – entered the office. He was tall, thin, tan, with midnight-black hair, and immensely good looking. At least Leslie thought so. He looked at a piece of paper and handed it to the secretary.

"Mrs. Duello, would you please notify these student's teachers that they will be missing first period?" he asked, smiling. Mrs. Duello looked like she could find any number of other more interesting things to do than the requested task. "And you five," he said, turning to Jesse and the others with a completely unreadable expression on his face, "please follow me." As they exited the office, Jesse passed Scott Hoager being marched in. He guessed correctly that the bully was not going to be included in their group…whatever it was.

The five students dutifully followed the man down Main Street, the long corridor that connected all parts of Lark Creek Middle School with each other. Turing right near the end of the corridor, they entered a section of the school occupied primarily by the seventh and eighth grade teacher's offices. A few steps further and the man stopped, opened an office door, and directed the five to enter. As they walked past him, each saw a tag on the hallway next to the door. It read:

_David Hrdy  
English  
Courier_

Jesse was certain the man's last name had been misspelled

"Alright, everyone, have a seat," he said, closing the door behind him. "My name is Dave Hrdy. Yes, I know it is spelled funny, many Eastern European names are. Just pretend it's spelled H-E-R-D-Y. When we're in here, I'm Dave. Outside this office we have to bend to the school rules, so I'm _Mr._ Hrdy." Jesse and Leslie shared a brief curious glance. "I am teaching seventh and eighth English, and Honors English, and I received your names from your previous English teachers due to your excellent writing skills. All of you, except Mr. Aarons; Jesse, you were chosen for your drawing skills."

Jesse grimaced, he didn't like his lack of competency in any subject pointed out so casually.

Unable to keep quiet any longer, Bobby Soon, a corpulent boy of Asian descent, asked the question each of them had been wondering: "Mr. Hrdy, why are we here?"

"Dave, please. We are here to perform a resurrection, of sorts. Until 1999, Lark Creek had its own school paper called, _The Lark Creek Laurel_. We are going to bring it back into circulation as _The_ _Lark Creek Courier_. I've received permission from the Principal, and a small grant from the PTA, to help get us started. I'd like the five of you, if you wish to be part of the team, to write the initial issue, with Jesse Aarons doing the illustrations where needed. And Jesse, would you like to design the banner for the paper?"

"Um, sure, Mr. Hrdy."

"Dave, Jesse, just Dave, please."

"Ok…Dave. And I'm Jess, not Jesse…please." Everyone laughed.

"Ok. So, what do you think?" Mr. Hrdy asked, opening the topic up for discussion.

The conversation for the next half-hour was lively, and even though it centered on writing, Jesse felt he was being included. As he listened, he doodled on a note pad some initial ideas for the letterhead, feeling better about the first day of school than he had in a long time. When the period was nearly over, Mr. Hrdy made a few closing comments.

"I'd like to meet with all of you, together, once each week. I'll see about your schedules, hopefully everyone can make it at the same time. One last thing: The Courier is not 'our paper,' it's the school's paper. We need to be as inclusive as possible, so student submissions will always be welcome. You will take turns editing each other's stories and any outside pieces that come our way. Now, off you go to your second period. I'll be in contact will each of you during the week."

The five students thanked Mr. Hrdy as they departed, all feeling as singularly happy as Jesse.

The great first day of seventh grade Jesse started with began to be marred in second period. It was a free period for the first week of school and the students had the time to fill in forms and questionnaires about the yearly activities. Jesse found the information about the annual student art contest, which he had won the past three years. He filled in the information and turned it in to the woman proctoring the class, along with his other papers.

"Oh, you're Jesse Aarons," she said, seeing his name. "I was asked to give you this."

The lady handed him a plain white envelope with his name on it. Inside he found a letter from Mrs. Mason, his Art teacher from the previous few years.

_Dear Jess, _

_Welcome back to school, I hope you had a pleasant summer._

_I regret to inform you that you can no longer compete in school drawing contests. Once you receive payment for your drawings you are considered a professional artist and ineligible to participate in scholastic events. You can still draw for the school, but your work cannot be used in competition._

_Please stop by and see me when you have some time._

_Best wishes,  
Mrs. Mason_

Jesse grunted and shoved the paper in his backpack, earning him an inquisitive look from Leslie. When she tried to ask him what it was about, however, he just shook his head. Then she turned to the page advertising the seventh grade dance, poked Jesse, and held it up for him to see. He gave her a somewhat pathetic and forced smile.

Lunch period managed to spoil still more of Jesse's initial good humor for the day. As they had done in the past two years, Jesse and Leslie sat together for the meal, usually well removed from the other students. Last year that had changed a little with Mikey Sellers joining them every so often. This year, however, Tom Jacobs appeared as soon as they sat down; Jesse groaned to himself. In some ways, he really was ok with the boy's presence, he _was_ polite and generally a nice kid. Tom had not made a lot of friends in sixth grade, having come to Lark Creek with only a few weeks of classes remaining, and Jesse was aware of how painful that could be. But whenever he appeared, he focused his attention almost exclusively on Leslie, and she responded to him, too.

Jealousy was no longer a new concept to Jesse, and he now realized he had been dealing with the emotion for years. But it was never this…_directed_. Determined not to be rude, Jesse greeted Tom as he stood by the table, and even invited him to join, (as soon as he realized the boy was going to sit anyway). True to form, Tom gave Jesse a perfunctory _"Hello"_ and then started speaking with Leslie, filling her in on his summer activities. Jesse, trying to regain the upper hand for Leslie's attention, cut in and mentioned how he had spent three weeks in Europe with the Burkes.

Tom looked at Jesse in an odd way. "Yeah, I know." Then he returned his attention to Leslie.

_What? _"Hey, Tom," Jesse interrupted again, "how do you know?"

Tom gave Jesse a surprised look. "It's posted on the board outside the front office."

"Excuse me," Jesse said, jumping up and walking to the bulletin board. He heard Leslie get up and follow him.

Hanging on the wall in front of the main office was a massive, locked bulletin board and display case. Inside, just off-center, was a clipping from the London Enquirer with a picture of Mr. Burke, Jesse, and J.B. White, (complete with his scowling mother in the background,) autographing books. Next to it, apparently hung with little regard to balance, was a section of another front page Jesse had seen before, the one with him and Leslie holding hands and titled:

**Writer/Illustrator  
Family Connections?**

"Jesse, what is it?" Leslie asked, not having noticed either of the articles hanging in the case. He pointed. "Nice. Really nice," she said flatly.

"C'mon, Les, we have to see someone."

Five minutes later, Ms. Walker, the Assistant Principal for seventh and eighth grade, walked over to the case with Jesse and Leslie following. She unlocked it and removed the smaller article. When she started to close the case, Jesse spoke up.

"Wait! What about the other one? I don't want that up there, either. People around here think I'm strange enough as it is."

"Jesse, that's nothing to be ashamed of; but I'll remove it if you like."

"Please."

"Very well. But I'll hang on to this, Jesse; that was quite an accomplishment."

Jesse shrugged and muttered, "Whatever," and returned to lunch with Leslie. While they were gone, Tom had finished and left the cafeteria, but someone had spilled (or poured) milk on his backpack. He looked inside and saw that it had not soaked through. This time.

"Let's go, Les."

The rest of the day passed without much trouble, but on the bus ride home Jesse brought up the spilled milk.

"Les, you don't think Tom poured the milk on my…"

"_Jess! Don't start that again!_" Leslie snapped harshly, clearly short-tempered.

"_Fine_," he fired right back, slumping back into the seat.

Neither said much the rest of the ride home.

* * *

On the second day back, fall sports sign-ups took place in P.E. and both Jesse and Leslie signed up for cross-country. The coach had set up a table in the gym and knew Jesse by reputation. He appeared delighted to have him join. "Just keep your grades up, Jess, that's all we ask."

When Leslie asked about girl's cross country she was met with a frown.

"If we have enough girls sign up we can have a team." The coach was obviously dubious about having enough females joining.

"How many do we need?" Leslie asked.

"A minimum of ten."

"And how many are signed up now?"

"One. You. See my problem?"

"Yeah…how about this: If we don't have enough girls, can I run with the boy's team?"

The coach didn't shoot that idea down immediately, which offered some hope. "I'll have to ask about that. I don't see any problems…" he glanced at the sign-up sheet, "Leslie, but if there _is_ a problem you could still run unofficially. We could keep track of your time and maybe next year things will change."

"Don't worry, Les, you'll get to run," Jesse said, trying to cheer his friend up.

"Yeah, big deal. If I can't compete I'm not sure I want to run." Uncharacteristically, she turned and stomped off.

Sighing, Jesse looked back at the coach and shrugged. "Girls."

By Friday, Mr. Hrdy had contacted all five students whom he had selected to be on the permanent staff of the _Lark Creek Courier_. They were scheduled to meet during the thirty-minute free period everyone had built into their daily schedule. Fortunately, all five had the same time slot free.

"Ok, here's what I want to do today. First, I need commitments from each of you that you want to do this. I selected you based on your ability. But if you are not interested, then let me know right now. Second, you need to select one of your own to be your editor-in-chief. That person will be responsible for maintaining the schedule of who edits each article. Third, you need to think of ways to draw other students in. I know you are all good writers, but this is a school-wide publication. If someone has poetry, set up a section for that; you could have a monthly contest where one of you pick a subject, and then read and select the top three or five entries. Use your imaginations. Finally, you need to set up some sort of schedule for the paper's publication. Use your brains here; don't schedule an issue for exam or S.O.L. week. Ok, you have twenty minutes, get to work."

The five kids jumped right at it and all said they were interested in participating. Question number one was answered.

For selecting the editor-in-chief, it fell to Bobby Soon somewhat by default, as no one else cared for the job, and he seemed the least disinterested in it.

The third question, about drawing in students, Jesse volunteered to work up some ideas for posters.

As for the frequency, everyone agreed that three or four editions would be sufficient for the material they all believed could be produced. Bobby presented the answers to Mr. Hrdy just as the bell was ringing for the next period.

The rest of the week passed as do most first weeks of school: hectic, confused, with teachers and staff scrambling about unlocking lockers and correcting schedules. Also, both Jesse and Leslie were frequently questioned about their summer trip to Europe. Many of these left them feeling upbeat. Students wanted to know about the places they saw and things they did. Few found it easy to believe that the trip was mostly hard work. But once they explained their grueling travel schedule, much of the glitter and Hollywoodish views of the tour vanished.

At lunch on Friday, sitting with Tom Jacobs and Mikey Sellers, Jesse told them the truth about the signing tour. "We had one stretch where we worked in three cities over two days. We didn't really have much of a chance to sightsee or mess around." The two boys grimaced and seemed to grasp the true nature of the trip.

Jesse was also learning a great deal about himself and how to be patient and inclusive with their new friends. Neither he nor Leslie made public displays of their own close friendship, and most students still believed that they were just best friends, in spite of Scott Hoager's best efforts and the brief advertisement on the bulletin board. But Jesse had no clue about what Tom felt for Leslie, if anything, and he didn't want to bring it up with her again. It was, he was coming to believe, as simple as what Leslie had told him weeks ago: he's just more comfortable talking with girls. On the other hand, Jesse was often fighting a nagging voice that told him Tom was a threat.

_Another thing to ask Dad about…_

Grace, Tom's younger sister, started joining them for lunch on Wednesday and was enjoying their company as much as her brother did. And she seemed to especially take pleasure in Leslie's companionship. Jesse found her presence curious. Grace was an, 'Ok kid,' as he would say, polite and pleasant to speak with. But she seemed a bit shunned by her classmates. He had no objection to her joining them, not that he really had any say in the matter. By Friday, Jesse had noticed that Grace _was_ comfortable with him, her brother, and Leslie, but painfully shy around anyone else. He reckoned that for Grace, and maybe Tom also, sitting with the only two people they really knew at school was simply a way to find a few minutes of comfort in an otherwise chaotic day. Feeling guilty, and a bit ashamed with his behavior, Jesse made it a point to let Tom feel welcome to eat with them. And as Jesse loosened up, so did Tom, taking more time each day to chat with _both_ him and Leslie.

As they had been doing for over a year now, Leslie spent Friday after school and evenings at the Aarons' house. At dinner, May, Leslie, and Jesse each shared stories from their first week of school with the rest of Jesse's family. Joyce Ann, who had graduated to a high chair, clapped enthusiastically as each of the three younger children completed their story, sending pieces of meatloaf flying off her fork. Ellie, now attending Southwestern Virginia Community College, had found a job in town as a waitress to pay for books and tuition. It was a job neither parent approved of, but could not deny her. She had little to speak about except the occasional cheapskate who left nothing for a tip.

When Ellie was finished talking, everyone turned their attention to Brenda, the last Aarons child unheard from. She muttered something about hating high school, and no amount of good-hearted prodding by her siblings or parents could bring forth additional communication. She had been hopeful that a boy she'd met at the picnic on Monday would call, but nothing had happened, yet. Leslie saw Mr. and Mrs. Aarons trading concerned looks and made a mental note to ask Jesse about his next older sister.

Following dinner, the three younger school-aged children went off to the family room to do their homework, a requirement on Friday nights during the school year. Both older children were disgruntled about the volume of work assigned the first week, but plodded through it diligently and then helped May with hers. When finished, Jesse brought down his sketchpad and showed Leslie his ideas for the school paper banner and publicity posters. There were four he had drawn up over the week. They agreed on a few minor changes and that they should present all four to the paper staff and Mr. Hrdy at the next meeting.

As the evening wore on, May retired to her room to play, Jesse and Leslie sat next to each other on the couch looking for something interesting on television. They decided on Monk, the only sitcom they both liked. Leslie fiddled with the still unfamiliar remote while Jesse went into the kitchen and took out a bag of popcorn. He was, however, distracted by the sounds of his parents and Brenda fighting upstairs. Throwing the bag of popcorn into the microwave, he leaned against the counter remembering his dream on the plane back from Europe: Brenda had died of a drug overdose; Jesse clearly remembered seeing her dead on a bed with a syringe in her arm. Shuddering at the memory, the beeping of the microwave jolted Jesse out of the unhappy recollection and he returned to the family room.

Leslie had also heard the shouting from above. She looked into the kitchen where she saw Jesse standing still, almost in a trance, until the popcorn finished. When he sat down with her a few seconds later, she felt his body shaking.

"You ok, Jess?" she asked softly, taking the bowl of popcorn and setting it on the table. "I heard it, too."

Jesse's face reddened in shame. "Yeah, I guess. I was remembering that dream and Brenda being dead. It was creepy."

Jesse stretched his arms and legs and gave the impression of shaking off the tragic memory. He turned his attention back to the TV as the show was starting, but Leslie could tell her friend wasn't really watching. She took his hand and leaned into him slightly, unable to think of anything else to do. After a while, she felt Jesse relax and begin to enjoy the show. It was exactly what she wanted for him.

* * *

"Where's Dad?" Jesse asked his mother, shortly after he walked Leslie home that same evening.

"I think he said he was going to the greenhouse, why?"

"Oh, nothing. Thanks," he said, running off to find the answers to his most pressing questions. When he approached the greenhouse door a few seconds later, he could see his father working on something overhead. _Probably the sprinklers…_ He paused and then entered.

"Jess! Perfect timing. Hand me the needle-nosed pliers, will you?" Mr. Aarons pointed to his toolbox.

Jesse handed his father the tool and sat back, watching him tighten a length of wire around one of the sprinkler heads. When he finished he had another request. "Turn the water on a little, Jess. There, that's good." The water starter spurting out of the sprinkler as Mr. Aarons checked for leaks, but there were none. Jesse turned the water off and sat on an old wooden crate while his father put the tools away.

"What's up, Jess? Leslie gone home already?"

"Yeah, nothing on TV, and we're hiking over to Mr. Boone's cabin tomorrow so we wanted to get to bed early." _Well, it's mostly true…_ "Um, Dad, do you have a few minutes? I need to ask you about something."

Setting the toolbox in the far end of the greenhouse, Jesse Aarons Senior smiled to himself. "Sure, son. Let's go out back, it's cooler."

Father and son walked silently to the back of the house and into the old screened porch. It did little to keep the insects out any more, but little was better than nothing.

"What's up, Jess?" his father asked, giving his son his complete attention.

"Um, Dad, I was wondering what... if what I'm, I mean… you know I like Leslie, but I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean when you say you don't know what to do?"

"Um, like how I should feel about her, what's normal, that sort of thing."

His father was quiet for a few seconds, thinking of his answer. "Son, those aren't really questions I can answer. In fact, no one can answer them but you."

"_But I don't know!_ Everything is so confusing."

Mr. Aarons gave a little laugh. "Jess, it's confusing when you're an adult, too." His son's face fell with these words. "Don't look so down. You know what it is to _like_ a person, and you probably already know what it is to _love_ a person. Maybe you have trouble with the _degree_ or _intensity_ of the emotions. But you know, in here," he tapped his chest, over his heart, "when it's love."

He considered these words for a few seconds, but still was not certain if it answered his real question. "I want to be with her all the time, even when she's being grouchy. But that scares me, too. Is that normal?"

"Jess, 'normal' for one person isn't always 'normal' for another. Do you think you love Leslie?"

"Yes!" The certainty and resolve with which he answered surprised _both_ father and son.

"Are you _in love_ with her?"

"What's the difference?"

"Love is a way of living. _Being in love_ is the change you go through to love someone for life." Again the father stopped and watched his son for a minute. He didn't say anything, though he was clearly thinking.

"Then, yes, I guess I am." Jesse could feel his face reddening.

"It feels great… right?"

"Yeah." The boy's smile could be heard in his voice.

"Then, Jess, if I had one piece of advice to share with you, I'd say, don't fight it. Let yourself fall in love. Let it happen."

"Really?"

"Really; and enjoy it."

The look on his son's face, when he heard these words, touched the father deeply.

* * *

"Hi. Did Jess find you? He was looking about an hour ago." Mary Aarons was lying in bed, reading one of Judy Burke's earlier books, _Can't Hurt Me!_ She had a thin pillow wedged in under the small of her back.

"Yeah, he did. Back still bothering you?"

"It's not too bad. What's up with Jess?"

"Oh, he had some father-son questions," he said, trying to make his reply casual enough that his wife wouldn't ask anything else.

"About Leslie?"

"Hmm? What's that?" He had heard the question perfectly well, and Mary knew it.

"I said, did he want to talk to you about him and Leslie?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Just wanted to know what love and falling in love is about."

"Oh, God…our twelve year old son is in love. Heaven help us," said Mary dramatically, as if she hadn't known it before. She closed the book and looked at her husband suspiciously. "Wait a minute. He asked _you_ about love? And what do _you_ know about falling in love?" she asked, arching her eyebrows playfully.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed, next to his wife, and took her hand. "I know a thing or two."

Laughing warmly, she kissed her husband's hand. "You mean, a thing or two or three…"

"…Or five or six? Yeah, I know something."

Mary sighed, looking at her husband's face. She had forgotten, already, what a toll his old job had taken on him – on their family – on their marriage. He was a new man, now. _No, that's not right. He's like he was years ago._ "I love you, Jack."

The smile he gave her was far better than him saying he loved her; that she knew. Now he was happy, too. She opened her arms and they merged into a passionate kiss."

* * *

The following day, just as the Saturday before, was a beautifully cool late-summer morning in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Jesse met Leslie at her house at eight and they took off for the long trip into the mountains to visit with Mr. Boone. This time, Jesse wore a small backpack to carry their lunches, map, compass, and extra water and Gatorade. At her parents' insistence, Leslie brought her mother's cell phone, even though the likelihood of finding a signal in the hills was remote.

Almost from the start, Leslie noticed that her normally reserved and quiet friend had been replaced by a smiling, effusive, and more enthusiastic one. He was still, she knew, the same Jesse Aarons from the night before, but he was outgoing, and almost uninhibited. She liked the change but wondered what had triggered it; when he took her hand moments later, she stopped caring about the reason.

They were accompanied by PT, who had been declared fit by the vet, caught up on all his shots, and lighter by more than fifty ticks, many grossly bloated with the unfortunate canine's blood. It had taken the kids three days of grooming to thoroughly clean up their pet, but PT acted happier without the matted fir and pesky parasites. He also had a collar and tags to identify him, should he became separated again.

It took the kids almost three hours to cover the estimated eight miles to Mr. Boone's cabin, including a long rest on top of the scenic hill they had crossed seven days earlier. There they sat against a small outcropping of rocks and ate granola bars while silently admiring the clouds and magnificent scenery. PT would bark excitedly – but in vain - for a granola bar, scampering back and forth between Jesse or Leslie. Neither child knew if their snack was safe for the dog to eat and he eventually lay down at their feet. With their break over, they set off on the final mile to the cabin, stopping only one more time to take care of something they wouldn't be able to do at Mr. Boone's place.

About a hundred yards from the cabin, Jesse and Leslie saw Mr. Boone cutting the tall grass in front of his cabin. He carried a long-handed sickle and was swinging it rhythmically, back and forth, cutting the knee-high grass. The three hound dogs, still lying on the porch, did not even sniff for the visitors this time. Finally, the old farmer saw his guests and waved a greeting, pointing to his porch for them to sit, presumably, while he finished his work. Ten minutes later, the old man joined them, drinking a Mason jar of water from his well.

"So you came back, eh? I'm glad you did. I was going huntin' in a while and wanted some company." He shook their hands. When he sat, PT ran from Leslie to his former owner and began panting madly, not stopping until he was acknowledged and petted.

"Let's eat, first. All that work makes me hungry!" he said, again laughing at himself and rising to fetch his lunch. Jesse and Leslie broke out their meal, politely waiting until their host had returned before eating. When he did, Leslie nudged Jesse with her foot and nodded in Mr. Boone's direction.

"Jesse," she whispered, "he doesn't look well. Think he's ok?"

"I'm fine, missy. Never try to whisper in front of someone with a hearing aid." The old man laughed again and returned to his food. Jesse looked at Leslie and shrugged. She stuck out her tongue at him.

By a quarter to twelve they were all ready and started out, Mr. Boone leading the way, in a slow walk up to the mountains. PT stayed behind, securely tied to a hook on the cabin. The first half mile took them across a large field of overgrown grass. "This is all mine, you two. No poaching!" he said, with a wink of his eye.

As they approached a hill about two hundred feet high they veered off to the right and the three entered a thick forest made up of primarily pine and cedar. The smell was wonderful and it was easy for the kids to walk along, almost in a dream-like state, following their guide. After about fifteen minutes, the trees opened up and they found themselves in a small meadow with two precipitous spires of granite in front of them. A creek had also appeared and seemed to originate from between the two looming walls.

"Don't let that scare you two off, it isn't what it seems," Mr. Boone said. He started walking again and they soon turned to the outside of the leftmost granite peak. "That scares everyone, looks like there's a solid wall there. I know better."

Over the next ten minutes, the old man led his guests up and down giant boulders without so much as a path to guide them. The going was not difficult, if you watched your step, and the old man was as sure as a mountain goat. He also liked to laugh when Jesse or Leslie slipped. At first, the kids found his attitude almost annoying, but soon realized that this man must have come this way a thousand times and earned the right to be a little cocky. And when they turned the last corner, Jesse and Leslie both gasped in amazement.

"Pretty nice, eh? Don't think no one's been here in fifty or sixty years, 'cept for me and you two."

In front of them lay a scene of wonder such as they had never found in all their travels. The two granite spires, which they had just come around, were actually a single structure that had once been part of a row of similar edifices, perhaps three hundred yards long. Over the eons, the small creek they had seen, as well as wind, had eroded almost all of the other towers' foundations, until all but this last two-headed monster had tumbled down. The debris of these collapses was evident. Though heavily weathered over hundreds of thousands – perhaps millions - of years, it was easy to follow the path of destruction. Immediately behind the last standing wall were gigantic boulders, many five or ten feet across, the edges still sharp enough to cut a careless hiker. But as they looked further up the narrow canyon that appeared to be a half mile away, the size of the stones decreased until the farthest ones looked like ordinary stones found in a riverbed. For a minute, Jesse and Leslie stood flabbergasted, unable to take in all they were seeing. They were looking backwards in time, in a way, as they looked up the narrowing canyon.

"Told you," the old man laughed. "Now, you want to see the best part?"

This comment pulled Jesse and Leslie out of their reverie. "There's more?" both said together.

Laughing yet again, the man lead them on. This time they followed what appeared to be a deer trail on the left side of the canyon wall. The slope alternated between steep and level, both ascending and descending, and it took them another quarter-hour to reach the far end of the ravine. On their own they thought they could have made the trip in five minutes, but every few yards, Mr. Boone would stop to point out some feature, geologic or flora, that he found interesting. Finally, just a few steps from the end of their trip, they rounded a large boulder and stopped.

"You ready for this?" Mr. Boone asked, his eyes wide. The kids nodded silently. "Follow me."

Just three steps later they arrived.

The contrast between what they had just walked by and what they were seeing could not have been more dissimilar. They were standing on a ledge about a foot above a small pool of water. Into the pool, from the west, ran a small brook; out of the pool, to the east, the brook continued down into the canyon whose walls they had just walked by. But the most striking feature of all was the optical illusion they had fallen for when they first stood at the opposite end. It was very much like the illusion of distance you get when looking down railroad tracks, but in three dimensions.

The water running through the narrow canyon was definitely running downhill, but not from a drop of a hundred feet, as it appeared from the entrance. The drop was no more than ten feet over the thousand-foot length. It was eerie to be so mislead in their perception.

"I didn't believe it the first time I saw it, either. Pretty nifty, ain't it?"

"It's beautiful," Leslie replied, still stunned by the scenery.

Jesse said nothing, but knew he had found a place where he could draw forever and never run out of ideas.

"Well, there is one more thing. I want to show you."

Jesse and Leslie looked at each other, finding it hard to imagine there was more, but they followed. It was a very short walk, just past the last of the boulders at the top of the canyon, but for all the spectacular beauty they had just seen, this was no let-down. Hidden behind the two hills that met to form the granite canyon, was a large, green plateau. From a few feet above they could see the brook branching out to collect water from other smaller tributaries on other hills. Upon closer inspection, they saw that the green groundcover was not regular grass, but some type of aquatic plant that thrived on the muddy soil the brook provided.

Hearing a noise behind them, Jesse and Leslie saw Mr. Boone remove his hunting rifle and set it against the passage wall. Next to it, carved into the rock, was a seat of sorts, tilted slightly so water wouldn't pool in it.

"I chiseled this out about thirty years back, thought it would make me feel a part of the place." He swatted a bug that had landed on his knee with his hat. "Didn't work too well. Felt more like I was defiling it. But I figgered, _what the heck?_ It's here so I'll live with it."

Then placing his hat over his face, he leaned back to rest. But he had one last thing to say. "All I ask is that you don't tell anyone about this place, least 'til I'm gone."

Jesse and Leslie promised.

Over the next hour, they explored the canyon and found it was actually a series of small pools of water, one feeding the next, until the creek vanished into crevices created by the larger boulders at the terminus. When they returned to the top, Mr. Boone was snoring away so they removed their shoes and socks and soaked their feet in the cool mountain water. Leslie felt Jesse put his arm around her and pull her in a little closer. It was a wonderful feeling, and she was easily able to let herself be pulled snugly against him; her eyes closed, she dreamt of sitting there forever.

Eventually, however, Jesse and Leslie had to head back. They woke Mr. Boone up and told him it was time for them to leave. He waved them on with his hat.

"Mr. Boone, can we come back here?" Jesse asked, thinking of all the plans he had for drawing.

"You can come whenever you like. You know where to find it. Now off you two go before you _git_ in trouble." Picking up his rifle, Mr. Boone walked to the west, along the side of the green-covered clearing; Jesse and Leslie headed back home.

A half-hour later, having briefly stopped at the cabin to collect PT, the two friends continued on their way home. Jesse was becoming more and more comfortable with the concept of falling in love, and was rapidly learning not to think about it too much. When he did, he would find himself in a loop of uncertainty: _Should I do so-and-so ... no ... but I want to ... but you're pushing things ... but I want to do so-and-so_, and so forth. His father had given him some general guidelines concerning appropriate behavior, and he wasn't in the least bit interested in testing the extremes.

Taking Leslie's hand, he could sense more than see her smile. Her hand felt good. Soft and warm, unlike, he supposed, his own rough palms. They walked on, chatting now and then, but mostly just enjoying the day and each other's company.

Back at the spot where Leslie had nearly died sixteen months earlier, they slowed until they were standing still, the only sound was the creek gurgling and splashing past. Jesse felt so incredible good being outside, in the forest and mountains, but most of all with his best friend..._his girl_, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in love. He found himself taking Leslie's other hand so they were looking at each other. He found himself wanting to say things he had never said to another person. He found himself mesmerized by Leslie's face and...all of her. He found that if he caught her eye, that they were saying the same things he was feeling.

"Hi," Leslie whispered, looking up, shyly. It was such an absurd thing to say, Jesse thought, after having been together for almost eight hours. But it was perfect, too. He noticed something building inside him. It was scary, but exciting, passionate, and so closely intertwined with the girl just a foot away that he thought he might burst.

"Hi."

Both stood as motionless as they could, rooted to the ground. Both wanting to get closer and both thinking maybe they should be getting on home.

_Patience, sweetheart, have patience._ Leslie's mother's words pushed through the muddle of sensations swirling uncontrollably in her mind.

_Let it happen, son._ Jesse's father's advice sought a hold in his consciousness. He pulled Leslie in just a little closer; she offered no resistance.

But not yet. Instead, he tipped his head forward to touch Leslie's hairline and felt her tremble. "Cold?"

"_No!_" she nearly shouted back the answer, not realizing how much energy had been building up inside her over the past few minutes. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm great, excellent, wonderful... you?"

There were things he couldn't say, or didn't know how to say. The truth was, he felt so happy he wanted to...

Jesse let go of Leslie's hands and pulled her to him. He held her tighter than he ever had before, feeling as if something was taking over control of his actions. He could feel her body against his own; some parts felt familiar, uniquely Leslie Burke, and others foreign. He wondered if it was true, if being in love and falling in love could be like this all the time, though he suspected his arms would wear out far too soon.

_She belongs to you, more than anything else in the world. Not as a possession, or an object, but as part of you. You belong...together._

Pressed almost painfully against Jesse's chest, Leslie smiled and held on tightly, too. She didn't care at all that they were both badly in need of a shower, or that Jesse's hand was running up and down her back in a way that was almost uncomfortably too familiar. He had never held her like this, as if he never wanted to let go, like he needed her, _like they needed each other_. It was, to Leslie, better than what she thought a real kiss would be, and she clung to him.

_Jess, let her go..._

He didn't want to listen to the voice, but he did ease up his hold and felt Leslie take in a deep breath. "Sorry, I...um, sorry I was too tight."

Leslie giggled. "It's ok, but it _is_ a little easier to breathe, now. Have a good time...I mean a good day?"

"Perfect. You?"

Leslie nuzzled her cheek into Jesse's sweaty t-shirt. "Mm-Hmm. Perfect."

PT startled them by unexpectedly barking and running down the path towards their houses. Slowly, reluctantly, Jesse and Leslie broke apart. Their faces were pink. "I guess we should be getting home," Leslie said, still whispering.

"Yeah. Thanks for a great day."

Leslie turned towards her house and took Jesse's arm, running her hand down it until she met his fingers. "See you tomorrow?" she asked as they started walking.

Smiling, he nodded and then said, "Yeah, I hope so."

As much as she despised the idea of it, Leslie started to release Jesse's hand as they approached her house. But Jesse wouldn't let go. They walked into view of her parents who were sitting on the front porch chatting and drinking iced tea.

"Hi Mr. Burke, Mrs. Burke," Jesse called out cheerfully, still holding their daughter's hand.

"Hi kids. How was the hike?"

"Unbelievable!" Leslie squeaked. She started to run the last few steps to the house, Jesse in tow. When he realized he was going to be pulled into the hug Leslie was about to give her mother, he finally released her hand.

"Whew! How far is it to this guy's place?" Mr. Burke asked, waving his hand in front of his nose.

"About eight or nine miles each way," Jesse replied. "Oh, sorry, guess I better get a shower, we got pretty sweaty."

Mr. Burke gave Jesse a cock-eyed smirk. "I bet you did. Have dinner with us tonight, Jess? After you shower, of course. Or better yet," he rose and pointed to the garden hose. "I could rinse you off right here." The other three laughed, though Jesse thought Mr. Burke might have been serious.

"Um, thanks..." he said, looking to Leslie, seeing if she wanted him to come back for dinner. She smiled brightly.

"Ok, I'll be back in an hour." Waving, he started off to his house, but was stopped after only a few steps.

"Jesse!" Leslie had run up behind him, her face pink and her mouth still in a smile. She stood up on her toes, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then whispered into his ear. "I love you, Jess." And before he could blink an eye, she had turned and run into her house.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	17. Part 3: The Day

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 17 – The Day**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Bill and Judy Burke observed their daughter and Jesse over the next three hours, trading glances and intermittent raised eyebrows. It was clear to both that something had changed in the relationship. Jesse's behavior was far more expressive than it had ever been, and both were more openly physical, although it was still limited to holding hands or sitting next to the other. But once, when neither child knew they were being watched, Jesse was sitting on the couch when Leslie came up from behind and wrapped her arms around his neck, her cheek next to his. It shot a pang of concern through Judy. She quietly retreated to the kitchen to speak with her husband.

Following a short but intense discussion, Bill convinced his wife to, "Just ask Leslie why there was a change." And so she did.

When Judy came into Leslie's room that evening to say goodnight, her daughter was busily writing in her diary and didn't notice her visitor, at first.

"Can I read it?" Judy asked, startling the girl to the point where she dropped the book and pen.

"_No!_" she squeaked, reaching for the fallen items.

"Les, are things ok between you and Jess?"

Leslie's face lit up, even though she knew her mother would read more into her expression than was necessary. "Yes, why?"

"You two were hanging all over each other this evening… I was just curious."

"Mother, we weren't 'hanging all over each other,'" Leslie replied. "We… I just felt, I don't know, closer to him than usual."

"Ok, I see. Is there anything we need to talk about?"

"_No, unless you want me to wait until I'm thirteen before we hold hands or hug." _There was a noticeable sarcastic bite to the answer, but Judy ignored it, trying to keep tensions low.

"No, it's just that you two looked more…affectionate, and I wanted to be sure everything was fine."

"Come on, Mother, I'm not stupid. I know what you're asking," Leslie retorted hotly. "We're not doing… _stuff_. I had a wonderful day with Jess and…that's all. _Really!_"

Judy tried to change the subject, but her daughter was clearly miffed with her and it was impossible to continue any conversation. After wishing Leslie goodnight, she went to the family room and told Bill how the conversation went.

"Ok, Jude, but I don't see any reason for worry."

"No, I didn't think you would," she groused, sitting next to her husband. "Am I being over-reactive?"

"Yes."

Ignoring the reply, Judy persisted in her line of questions. "What are we going to do, Bill?"

"Nothing. Now stop worrying and…I don't know, _read_."

"Maybe I should talk to Mary. She might know…"

"Judy, _stop it!_ You're going to drive both of us insane. Try looking at Jess, too. He's the other half of the pair, and he doesn't appear anywhere near ready to go past first base."

"What do you mean?"

"He has a lot of growing up to do before they get _seriously _physical."

"Oh? And how long might that be?" said Judy, sarcastically.

Bill gave his wife a long suffering look. "_Nine years!_ Feel better?"

"No."

* * *

**Saturday, September 6, 2008**

Dear Diary,

I had the best day of my life today. Needless to say, it was largely due to being with Jess. We hiked into the woods and Jess held my hand most of the way. We saw Mr. Boone and he showed us a breathtaking canyon hidden in the mountains behind his cabin. Jess loved it, too, I could tell. On the way home he said he wanted to take his sketch pad up there and draw the scenery forever. I think I'll go with him!

On the way home Jess hugged me (was hoping for more, but…) It was really strange, good but strange. He hugs me sometimes but not like this. It felt like he would never let go, not that I wanted him to. ;-) I really thought he was going to kiss me, but it was ok that he didn't, this time.

Only six weeks to my birthday, Jess! (Insert unspellable evil laughter here.)

* * *

_She said she loves me..._

_Lord, that felt so good to hear…_

_Should I say it to her?_

_I love you, Les..._

_I LOVE you, Les..._

_NO! Not _Less_, Leslie..._

_Stop talking to yourself…I must be crazy..._

Laying in bed, Jesse's mind was not allowing him to fall asleep. It flitted back and forth, from Leslie to himself to Leslie to school to Leslie... He got up, careful not to awaken May, turned on his book light and started to draw. It didn't help much. After an hour he was still wide awake. He tried a different strategy. Donning a shirt and his running shorts, he went down to the family room and watched TV. Somewhere around one in the morning he finally drifted off.

He dreamt about the creek and saw Leslie floating, face up. The water around her head was tinted red and her eyes were lifeless. But this time he couldn't get to her, and her body spun like a dead leaf in the current, floating away until it was out of sight.

Jesse bolted upright on the couch, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. It had been a while since he last had that dream, but its intensity and power to crush his spirit had not diminished. Panicking, and silently crying, he went to the back door, put his shoes on, and ran to the Burke's house. He half expected to see emergency vehicles arrive any moment, but they never came. The house was silent, and dark - except for the porch light. He could even see PT sleeping on Leslie's bedroom window stool, as if he were guarding her.

He stood for almost an hour, his arms wrapped around a small tree, forcing his heart and mind to calm down. Then he saw movement in the window. Leslie, in her pink and blue PJs, their color muted in the moonlight, opened her window a few inches. She had told Jesse that her room, every so often, became uncomfortably warm and she would crack the window to bring in some cooler air. He stood completely still, happy to see she was alive, but not wanting to be discovered. Then she disappeared again, as abruptly as she had appeared.

Finally calm, Jesse walked back to his house, the light of a full moon making the path clearly visible. There were no skunks to avoid, in any event. Back in his bed, he lay down again and waited for sleep to overtake him.

* * *

September passed into October in Lark Creek, but Jesse Aarons dwelt little on the progress of time, except where he counted down the days to the Thanksgiving holidays. When Ellie had told him, many weeks before, that seventh grade would be a different world than sixth, he had ignored her. Now he understood. The first week of classes had been so similar to his earlier school years, with the generally easy attitude of the teachers and students. But when week two began, and he found himself floundering with more school work and demands on his time than ever before, he swiftly became disheartened. And the material being covered was still review of sixth grade! By the time the third week of school was over he wished he could be home-schooled. Even if the amount of work was the same, he reckoned, there would be an hour and a half extra time each day that he was spending on the bus. More than once he found himself in tears, as he tried to fall asleep, thinking of his growing mountain of assignments.

Making matters worse, he was seeing less of Leslie in school now than ever before. Her parents had requested she be moved into Advanced English, she was already in eighth grade Algebra, and their electives were different the first semester. After returning home, there were more school projects to work on than ever before; (these Jesse had never enjoyed, even if it was something he could draw.) So the Friday evenings they spent doing homework together had become Friday _afternoon and evening_ doing homework, often far into the evening, without time to watch Monk, or whatever else might be on. Even the bus ride to and from school gave the friends little time to talk. One or the other was always trying to catch up on some assignment.

And apart from school work, both were involved with _The Lark Creek Courier_ and running Cross Country. The first issue of the Courier was scheduled for the Monday of Thanksgiving week, and would be, primarily, an advertisement and invitation for students to participate in the publication. In Cross Country, only three girls signed up for the sport, and in spite of her declaration the second day of school, Leslie, and one of the other two girls, ran with the boy's team. With both Jesse and Leslie being in top physical shape, it was not uncommon to find them leading the rest of the runners in practice. But Jesse's growth over the past year had added a number of inches to his legs and he no longer played catch-up to Leslie. In fact, he often slowed down to run beside her.

The two friends still had Saturday and Sunday to be together, though four straight weekends of rain prevented any long hikes or visits to Mr. Boone. They usually spent the time at Leslie's house where she was being needed more and more as her mother's due date, October twenty-seventh, approached. And also approaching was Leslie's thirteenth birthday, a week before the baby was due. The soon-to-be-teenager was relieved that her parents heartily agreed to not having a party this year; with the imminent birth, and her father off on a signing tour, it clearly wouldn't have been possible.

Jesse secretly wished he could arrange similar excuses on her birthday; he hadn't forgotten Leslie's comment of a few months earlier about not being allowed to 'kiss boys' until she was a teenager. Neither did he have any illusion about which boy it was she wanted to kiss. In the face of this impending event, Jesse was unusually anxious. He still did not mind the concept of kissing his best friend. In fact, the last kiss _she_ gave left him feeling uncommonly warm and... attached to her, in thought. Her proclamation of love, too, helped magnify his affection. He considered asking his father about how to kiss correctly, but that was a bit beyond Jesse's comfort level. He was going to be on his own.

On one Saturday in mid-September, Leslie asked Jesse if he would like to attend the Lamaze classes she was taking with her father in preparation for the baby's birth. She explained how her mother wanted her to be familiar with the child birthing technique, particularly, she said, if her father was delayed arriving at the hospital. Not really understanding what he was getting himself into, Jesse agreed.

Leslie's parents found their daughter's invitation to Jesse a little odd, but agreed that he could, "Sit in, if he wants." Consequently, over the last two weeks of September and the first two of October, Jesse was to experience an education into family life he had never expected. By and large, he did well and even found some of the information interesting. Until the final class. The three Burke's had warned Jesse that the last class included a video of a human birth, and that he might want to consider sitting out. Even Leslie, when she was sharing her reservations, thought it might be too much for him. But Jesse felt challenged, and more than a little curious; he thanked the Burkes politely and said he would leave if he felt uncomfortable. Judy Burke even called Mary Aarons to make sure it was alright for her son to watch the fairly detailed video. Jesse's mother found her son's participation in the entire program amusing and told her friend she had no objections, as long as Jesse didn't.

To his credit, Jesse made it through almost the entire film. But when the afterbirth was shown, it was too much and he just made it to the toilet in time before losing his breakfast. He promptly excused himself and ran home through a violent wind and rain storm.

Leslie called after lunch to make sure he was ok; Jesse was just glad she had called and not visited. There were some images, he considered, that should be left to older people, and he wasn't ready to face his friend quite yet. Though the film was discreet, there simply was no way to show a child being born without revealing parts of the female anatomy usually unseen. Settling his stomach with a can of Cherry Coke, Jesse reclined on his bed and picked up _The Hobbit_ to distract his overactive mind.

* * *

The Lark Creek Cross Country team had its first meet the last Saturday in September. At two in the afternoon, in the light drizzle that had invaded southwestern Virginia and persisted most of the month, all fourteen boys and two girls running were behind the school, warming up, stretching, and watching their opponents from Roanoke West. The course was just a few yards over two point eight miles, and ran up and down many of the nearby hills and through neighboring communities. Both teams provided a number of parents to supervise the route in case of trouble or injury.

The coach lined Jesse up in the front row of runners, with the two other fastest team members, and three from Roanoke West. He then repeated the process, one row at a time, until all runners were in place. When the timers had their watches ready, a starting pistol sounded and the race was on.

At the half way point, Leslie was still even with Jesse, both at the head of the race, but she clearly could not maintain the pace. Looking briefly to her friend, she smiled; Jesse understood and out of his peripheral vision saw her slowing and fall behind. He, however, kept his pace up.

At the three-quarter mark, no one had passed him, but his pace was slowing, and he could hear distant footsteps closing. He wasn't worried at this point: Although long distance running was very different that sprinting, he still had energy if he needed a burst of speed to finish.

At about two hundred yards from the finish line, the footsteps behind him were clearly getting closer. He saw one of the boys from Roanoke West pull abreast, and then ahead. Summoning his last reserves of energy, he changed from running to sprinting and won the race with yards to spare at the finish line. It was only then that he heard the spectators cheering for him. His parents came over to him, slapping him on the back as he walked and jogged in place to let his body cool down. After about two minutes he lay down to stretch, but May and Joyce Ann jump on him. He tickled his younger sisters to move them away, but they needed no coaxing. May exclaimed, "He's all wet and gross!" Jesse laughed along with his parents.

Leslie, herself red in the face and puffing, walked around Jesse as he finished his stretching a few minutes later. Mr. and Mrs. Burke were talking to Jesse's parents and all had smiles of pride on their face. As Leslie completed her cooling down exercises and stretched, Jesse sat against a tree; he would wait for her before going to see their times. He suspected it was pretty good based on the smile the coach gave him at a break in the timing of runners.

In spite of Jesse finishing first (and Leslie finishing before half the boys) Lark Creek lost the meet. Even so, the coach gave the team encouraging words, and told everyone he was proud of their efforts, before dismissing them. Jesse and Leslie stood at the back of their teammates, holding each other's sweaty hand.

* * *

Among the wide variety of activities Jesse and Leslie were committed to during the first month of school, academic, athletic, or otherwise, there was one which both looked upon with a mixture eagerness and anxiety: The seventh grade dance.

Jesse believed, correctly, that Leslie was not in the least concerned about the party itself, and neither was he. Socializing with their few friends at school had become easier, in spite of his shyness and introversion. It was the _dance_ part of the evening that concerned him. The idea of going out onto the gym floor (even with Leslie) with someone like Scott Hoager (or Ricky Manning, Hoager's latest bully buddy,) watching and making jokes, was becoming more than a fear. But it ended up being Leslie's total enthusiasm for the event that carried Jesse through.

Sure enough, Hoager and Manning were waiting outside the front of the school, trying to intimidate any seventh-graders whose eyes they could catch. But the larger-than-usual turnout of students and parents neutralized them. Past seventh-grade dances had been only modestly attended, at best. But tonight, it seemed as if most of the two hundred 'sevies' had shown up.

_Safety in numbers_, Jesse mused as he spotted Mikey Sellers. Mikey, their colorblind friend, having grown so much taller over the past year that his old clothes - which Leslie had once coded by color for him - no longer fit. He was again in danger of being mistaken for one of the long lollipops you find at the beach candy shops, the ones with six or seven different flavored rings. He and Leslie joined Mikey, and Tom Jacobs who had just then appeared out of a knot of students, and still later by three girls they all knew: Marlene Rothe, Jessica Bishop, and Erin O'Keefe, all attendees of Leslie's twelfth birthday party. This final group, more flirty and sociable than the first, came and went throughout the evening.

For the first forty minutes, Jesse and the other two boys hung around the snack table trying to look busy, and avoiding anyone who looked even remotely like they wanted a dance partner. They did this by consuming copious quantities of soda and chips, and were thus aided by frequent trips to the boy's room where they could verbally lament their predicament while relieving their bladder.

But Jesse knew that, ultimately, delay was a lost cause: There was no avoiding what his father called the '_obligatory dance_.' When he saw Leslie across the gym, standing alone, he crossed over to her and asked her to, in his words, _"Um, you know, go out and, you know."_ He really didn't need to ask if she wanted to dance, he'd known _that_ for almost a month. Leslie said nothing, but smiled and took his hand, leading him to the center of the floor.

The DJ was playing a medley of fast popular tunes, and there were about thirty other 'couples' on the floor. It didn't help Jesse much that some of them were pointing and laughing at other dancers. But then Leslie let go of his hand and punched his arm playfully. Even though he could not hear it, he saw her mouth relay the message:_ Dance!_

Again, he recalled something else his father told him earlier in the evening. "Dance like no one is watching you." It worked.

One dance turned into two, then three, then four. Jesse discovered that he rather enjoyed whatever it was he was doing; he hadn't determined if it was dancing or not, but neither he nor Leslie cared. And while watching her, Jesse was oblivious to anything else. He though the school might be able to burn down without him noticing. She was graceful... confident... happy... a _good_ dancer... and pretty...

_Where did that one come from?_

Then the music stopped and the DJ announced, "Now something slower for all the budding romances out there." The music started to some scattered jeers and cat-calls.

Most of the kids left the floor, but Jesse and Leslie remained with a handful of other pairs, including a _faux_ male-male couple which one of the chaperones quickly pulled off the floor to the acknowledged displeasure of the crowd. The two friends looked embarrassed as they drew closer to each other. Neither really knew what to do, but joining their hands seemed a logical first step. After that, they simply pulled themselves together: Leslie wrapped her arms around Jesse's waist and he placed his around her back, her soft golden-yellow hair tickling his chin. Standing, swaying, neither spoke, and neither needed to. The song, which was long and mellow, seemed to reflect their friendship perfectly. Jesse was totally content, and wished the music would keep playing. By the look Leslie gave him when it was over, he knew she felt the same.

Following that dance, there was a five minute break while the DJ scrambled off to the lady's room, in obvious need of relief. Jesse and Leslie slowly returned to their friends, hand-in-hand. It was the first time they had ever shown overt affection at school, other than a quick touch. Mikey and Tom were talking and laughing as they approached.

"Hey, Jess, didn't know you knew how to dance so well," Mikey said, obviously trying to stifle a laugh. Tom, smiling, said nothing, but noticed that his two friends were holding hands.

Jesse frowned at Leslie and was about to reply to the wisecrack when the faster music started again. Leslie gave him one of her trademark smiles, which he noticed had a touch of deviousness to it. She then grabbed Mikey's hand, dragging him, protesting mightily, out to the floor. Tom and Jesse watched Mikey who was trying desperately to appear cool. Both roared with laughter and none of them made any comments about the others dancing abilities after that.

When Mikey had been thoroughly humiliated, he and Leslie returned to the side of the room and she asked Tom to dance. He looked at Jesse pleadingly.

"What d'you want? I'm not going to ask you to dance," Jesse told Tom, grinning. Leslie gave him a brilliant smile as she took her next partner out.

For the remainder of the evening, all sixty minutes (the party/dance was from seven to nine o'clock) the four friends found an unoccupied table and sat around talking. All three boys danced with Leslie once more, but even she appeared to have had enough, and the last half hour they just sat around bemoaning the fact that weekends were only two days and there were still more than a hundred school days remaining.

The only awkward moment of the evening was when Leslie and Mikey were dancing the second time and Tom asked Jesse about his relationship with their flaxen female friend. He told the truth: They had been best friends for almost two years and that they were, "You know... going together."

Tom nodded in response and made an unexpected revelation. "That's going to be a major disappointment for Grace; she thinks you're the best thing since applesauce."

"You're kidding, right?" replied Jesse, bewildered by the notion that _two_ females might find him fun to be around. He also questioned Grace's comparison of him to fruit. Tom just smiled and shrugged.

Leslie's father picked the kids up at nine and they chattered like two birds all the way home. By this, Bill Burke was able to report to his wife that they had had a great time. He also mentioned that he had not heard any "Kissing noises from the back seat."

"I didn't ask about that, Bill!" she said defensively, "I just wanted to know if they had a good time."

"You didn't ask, but you wanted to know," he said.

* * *

Bill Burke departed on the first leg of his signing tour early on the eighteenth of October. The schedule had him begin in Washington, D.C., then move south to Arlington, Fredericksburg, Richmond, Williamsburg, and finally Norfolk, all in the first two weeks. The itinerary changes he had insisted upon kept him within four or five hours of home during that period. Judy was still not happy, but accepted the inevitable. Mary was also checking in on her daily, ostensibly to have a morning cup of coffee, but both women knew why she was there. Mary had even cheekily offered to let Jesse sleep over while Bill was gone, but this proposal was not received well.

On the twentieth of October, Leslie's father called early to wish her a happy birthday before he headed off to the morning events at Union Station in Washington. It was an all-day affair and large crowds were expected. That was at seven in the morning, just before Leslie headed to the bus for school. Minutes later, as she stood waiting and wondering where Jesse and May were, she heard a car horn honking and saw the Aarons' station wagon approaching in an insanely careless manner. It skidded to a halt, on the gravel and dirt road, only a few yards from the bus stop. When the cloud of dust settled, a few seconds later, Leslie saw Ellie Aarons, still in a nightshirt, waving frantically for her to get in the car.

Panic gripped Leslie when she saw Ellie's face, now smudged by streaks of tears and dirt. But the teen wouldn't, or couldn't, respond when she was asked questions. With Leslie barely in the door, Ellie floored the accelerator, but headed to her passenger's house, arriving only seconds later. Jesse was waiting for her on the porch, clearly upset. Leslie jumped out of the car just as it stopped, but immediately heard Ellie begin to sob. This unnerved her, more than anything up to that point; Ellie had always exhibited something of a stone-faced, uncaring personality. For something to upset her like this…

"Jesse, what is it? What's wrong?" she pleaded, running up to him.

"Your Mom's ok, Les," was all he seemed to be able to say before becoming mute again and staring at her with his mouth slightly open. In fact everything was eerily quiet.

_If Mom's all right, where is she?_ "Jess, is it the baby?"

This seemed to rouse Jesse, and he turned towards the house. "No, they're both fine," he said again.

_What's happening?_

Leslie's mind was racing. Her mother and the baby were ok, she had just talked to her father a few minutes before, so he was ok… Then she heard it: The radio in the kitchen, which normally played classical music in the morning. But there was no music coming from it now. A man's voice, unsteady and clearly troubled, was announcing some sort of emergency.

She felt Jesse's hand take hers and lead her into the house. Her mother and Jesse's were sitting at the kitchen table, holding hands. May, all dressed for school, was sitting with them, clearly not understanding what was happening.

"Listen," Jesse said softly, leading her to the table where the two mothers sat. Mrs. Burke took her daughter's hand, but said nothing.

Leslie turned her attention to the radio announcer.

The information was vague, disjointed, and the voice repeatedly said that most of the facts were, as yet, unconfirmed. It spoke of a bomb, many casualties, great damage, rescue equipment, and government officials. When Leslie was finally able to piece together what they were saying, she thought her heart might stop.

The bomb had exploded in Nation's Capitol, apparently just north of the Capitol building itself. It was powerful enough to disrupt communications for the first ten minutes of the crisis, and the many satellite, wireless, and hard-wired communications companies were struggling to bring their networks back online. From Arlington, the voice said, he had reports of a huge cloud of smoke and dust, billowing into the sky, visible for miles around.

Leslie asked, her own voice breaking, "Was Daddy near that?"

He mother just nodded, not looking at her daughter.

"Judy, let's go over to my house, we have a television and can get more news faster," Mary urged. Her friend might not have gone, wanting to stay if Bill should call, but Leslie had already jumped up and dragged Jesse with her. Shouting that they were going to the Aaron's house, the two kids took off, sprinting down the road.

An hour later, the scope of the disaster was just becoming apparent, and it was far worse than anyone imagined. Although the network and cable channels were resisting the use of the term, it was clear that some sort of "atomic device" had been detonated. The only good news reported to that point was that it was not a powerful explosion, for an A-Bomb that is. Analysts from the Los Alamos National Laboratory, including a few of the scientists who had created the first bombs, and military representatives, were watching the replay of the explosion as seen from a number of surveillance cameras around the city. They pointed out that even a Hiroshima-size bomb, a very small weapon, was far more powerful than what had detonated. Communications, they learned, had been restored to the Capitol building just minutes after the blast.

While all this was of some reassurance to the TV audience, Leslie and her mother sat in stunned silence wondering about the fate of their father and husband. They had tried Bill's cell phone, repeatedly, but no calls were making it through. Clearly the cell networks were crippled, overloaded, or both. Then Jesse provided the best news of the day when he pulled up an old travel map of Washington and pointed out the location of Mr. Burke's hotel. It was more than a mile from the site of the blast. Jesse also noted that even if he had left his room the moment the call to Leslie was over, it was only about three minutes before the bomb went off, and he couldn't have gotten very much closer to the devastated area during that time. Ellie, who had been sobbing quietly and inconsolably in the kitchen, pulled herself together and reminded them of the subway, "If he was on that, he's probably completely safe."

Jesse's and Ellie's news was a great comfort to their guests, and for the first time since they heard the news, Judy appeared calm and in control. But it was still a long time before they knew for certain, and no one had expended much thought on the wider ramifications of the attack. Mary took Judy to her room to lie down, bringing up tea a few minutes later. Leslie and Jesse sat with Ellie and tried to cheer her up some. Of all the Aarons' children, she most vividly recalled the 9/11 terrorist attack that stunned the country. This attack, already having been identified as an act of terror, was far too close to home.

Later that morning, tired of watching repeats of the explosion and analysts droning away on TV, Jesse and Leslie went out for a walk, stopping first at her house to let PT outside. They walked along the path towards the creek. Jesse felt miserable, above and beyond the fear he felt for Mr. Burke. He had not the slightest clue what to say or do for his friend. She was walking with her hands shoved deeply in her pockets, saying little, the silence between them broken only now and then by her sniffles.

He also realized that it would be highly unlikely he could honestly wish her a happy birthday.

Stopping for a while to watch the rain-swollen creek run by, Jesse felt Leslie take hold of his arm. When he looked down, into her face, he saw she was gazing up at him, but her features showed utter despair. Heartbroken, Jesse felt as if his body reacted automatically; he turned and pulled her gently but firmly into his arms. It was nothing at all like the last time they had embraced near this same spot. He felt her body shaking as she sobbed. His hand caressed her head and back, trying to soothe her. It was, Jesse realized, another part of the puzzle of love, and his father _had_ encouraged him to, _"Let happen."_

Leslie calmed down after a while but continued to hold Jesse for the strength and comfort he offered. But deep down, her heart ached, like her mother's, at the unknowns they were facing. And apart from their own personal involvement in the tragedy, the last time an attack like this had happened the country went to war. _Would it happen again?_

The kids returned to the house a half-hour later. Jesse's father had come home, but both their mothers were still upstairs, Ellie said. Joyce Ann was in her playpen acting as if nothing had happened. No one had seen or heard from Brenda since she had first been informed of the event. May had been picked up by the Masons, a family a short distance down the road: She was best friends with their daughter, Cassie.

Shortly before mid-day, the TV announcers said there would be a Presidential address at noon. Ellie went up to tell her mother while Jesse and Leslie threw together some snacks and sandwiches in case anyone was hungry. Neither of them felt very much like eating, but they hoped the President would have some good news to share, which would cheer everyone up some. As they worked, Leslie saw the birthday cake Mrs. Aarons had prepared for that evening. Jesse noticed her looking at it.

"Not the best birthday you've had, is it?"

She shook her head and went back to slicing cheese.

As the time approached for the address, Ellie, Brenda, (who had finally reappeared, though looking dazed,) Mrs. Burke, Mr. & Mrs. Aarons, Leslie, and Jesse were seated quietly around the television. Three minutes before the scheduled start, they heard Judy's cell phone ring. Leslie, Jesse, and Ellie all fell into a pile of flopping arms and legs as they jumped up in unison to retrieve it from the dining room table. They provided the first comical moment of the day. Mary answered and immediately handed the phone to Judy who talked for a minute and then hung up.

"That was Joan, they're all fine," she said, with hardly any life in her voice.

"Thank God," Jack said.

When Judy returned to her seat, Mary put an arm around her and they waited. The address began precisely at noon and lasted twenty minutes.

"Terrorism" was the first word the President spoke, confirming the suspicions of nearly everyone. He went on to explain how they had received a credible tip just minutes before the explosion, and were able to rapidly connect that tip with other intelligence to reach the conclusion. Next the Chief Executive moved on to the state of the recovery efforts.

Many of the first rescue and investigation personnel at the scene, they were told, died of exposure to radiation and thus hampered subsequent efforts. The initial guess was that the explosive was a "dirty bomb," a conventional explosive device laced with minimally radioactive material. But further evidence was pointing to "a fizzle," a true atomic or nuclear bomb that did not work properly. It would also explain the extremely high level of radiation in the area, something you would not get with a "dirty bomb."

Other evidence, the President pointed out, may take days to gather and prove, but for the immediate future the entire area within a half-mile radius of the explosion, was closed off. All people in this area, injured or unscathed, would be required to be tested for radiation before leaving. This included the Capitol building, parts of the National Portrait Gallery, and other offices and residences nearby.

Following a few final remarks, the President turned the podium over to a team of scientists and Homeland Security personnel to answer questions. At this point, Mary Aarons turned the TV off and busied the kids with jobs to keep them from dwelling on the tragedy. Judy Burke had perked up a little, and with her, Leslie, both feeling better after Jesse's discovery on the map, and the words from the President on the limited scope of the damage. But not knowing the fate of her husband eventually wore Judy Burke down again. By dinner time she was walking about the house, clearly agitated. Whenever the phone rang, which it did often, her face showed the strain of fearing ill news.

Eventually, Judy had Jesse and Leslie walk her home so she could check for messages on their answering machine. There were dozens, but none from Bill's cell phone or even from the (202) Washington D.C. area code. One call did touch her, however; it was from Jackie Roller, the famous British author they had met in Scotland. She sent her prayers and hopes for a good outcome; she had known Bill was scheduled to be in Washington.

Dinner was quiet that evening, Judy ate almost nothing and Mary understood Leslie's request not to celebrate her birthday, at least until they'd heard from her father. Around the TV later, they heard the updated situation in Washington and talked for a while about anything that would distract them from the events of the day.

The phone call they had been waiting for all day came at a quarter to nine. Bill, unharmed, but as terrified as the rest of the city, had just made his way to Roslyn, Virginia, by foot. He spoke reassuringly with his wife and daughter and encouraged them to get their rest. He was trying to contact Joan and Brian to pick him up, but had had no luck so far. As the call was about to end, Bill asked to talk with Mary who he thanked profusely for her help and friendship.

Then suddenly, as Mary was about to hang up, Judy said to tell her husband to come straight home: the baby was on the way.

Revision 1.1, April 2008.


	18. Part 3: The Night

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 18 – The Night**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Jesse realized that his fourth trip to Roanoke hospital would be his first for a happy reason, and he was far more upbeat than Leslie on the drive in. Mary left the rest of her family and drove Judy, Leslie, and Jesse (at his insistence) the forty miles while the mother-to-be timed her contractions. They were neither far apart nor painful, and if her water hadn't broken, Judy said she might have thought it was false labor. Arriving at the Admission entrance, and armed with a plan they had gone over in the car, Jesse and Leslie went straight in to get a wheelchair while Mary helped her friend out. Upon their return, the kids wheeled Mrs. Burke to the registration desk while Mary parked.

Having pre-registered in August, their time at the first desk was minimal and all four were soon following a volunteer to the maternity floor. After one final brief stop at the nurse's station, they were again escorted by the volunteer to a private birthing ward while another nurse contacted Judy obstetrician. Mary helped her friend into the bathroom to undress while the kids sat on a visitor's couch looking nervously at each other.

"S-Seeing it as a movie is one thing. This is s-scary," Leslie stuttered, her eyes wide as her mother returned with a blue and white gown on. Jesse just nodded and gave her hand a squeeze.

_She's probably feeling more vulnerable after what happened with her father today,_ Jesse reasoned.

Judy was hooked up to a fetal heart monitor, another machine to record her own heart rate and contractions, which were now only two minutes apart, and an I.V. in case medication was needed quickly.

Then the Burke's cell phone rang. Leslie answered: "We're in the baby borning…birthing, uh, whatever you call it," she spat out rapidly, without even saying hello. "Mom's all wired up and Jess's mom is with her…yes? Sure, Daddy, I will. Ok, I won't. Bye." Leslie giggled, hung up, and told her mother that her father was on the way to the hospital but wouldn't arrive until early in the morning. The response was a long, mournful groan that made the new teenager jump and exclaim loudly, "What's wrong?"

A nurse came over and told the kids that they had to be calm or leave. Jesse was all for leaving, but he knew Leslie wouldn't, so he clenched his teeth and told the nurse they understood.

"What did your father say, Les?" asked Jesse, trying to provide a distraction.

"Oh, um, he said he was on his way here."

"Yeah, you told us that. Anything else?"

"He told me to help Mom with the Lamaze stuff." Leslie looked like she wanted to do almost anything _but_ Lamaze.

"Ok."

Then she smiled. "Oh, and he said to keep you away from Mom if you're going to puke."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. Very funny. I was fine until the last…never mind. Come on, Les."

Bravely, Jesse took Leslie's hand and led her to the birthing chair where her mother sat. Seeing it up close left him with an impression of a thirteenth century torture device. Mrs. Aarons looked at the kids questioningly, but Judy verbally acknowledged them. "Contractions are close together, you two, and last a long time. What part of labor is that?"

"Phase One, Transition," they answered together. Judy smiled, and then grimaced as another contraction began.

"Excellent, you two!" exclaimed a cheerful African-American nurse. Then to the doctor who had just come in: "She's dilated about nine centimeters, fully effaced, water broke about two hours ago, fetal pulse good, BP fine. Contractions about one and a half to two minutes apart."

"Any Pit?"

"No, doctor, and she arrive about thirty minutes ago."

Judy's Obstetrician, Dr. Mary Wiggs, looked her over quickly and then to Jesse's horror, put on a glove, squirted a clear gel on it and told Mrs. Burke she was going to do, "A quick internal." Closing his eyes, Jesse tried using one of the Lamaze exercises to distract himself from what was going on: He wasn't sure what an 'internal' was, but it sounded unpleasant.

Seeing the boy's discomfort, Judy patted his hand and said reassuringly, "I'm fine Jess, what's coming out is far bigger than her hand." And as if to punctuate the comment, she groaned as another strong contraction started.

Dr. Wiggs looked at the kids at this point, then to Mary.

"Our kids," she said, in way of explanation.

The doctor turned to them. "Ok, you can stay, but I have two rules: First, do exactly as I say, without hesitation. Second: If you feel light-headed, sit down immediately. We don't need more than one patient in here at a time." She looked directly at Jesse when she made this last comment. "And if anyone is taking pictures, stand _behind_ me."

_Pictures?_ Jesse mouthed in revulsion to his mother.

"Yeah… some couples like… never mind." Mary's face took on a light pink tone.

"Um, ok… what's 'pit,' Mom?"

"It's a drug, _Pitocin_, for inducing labor." Jesse nodded as if he understood.

Over the next half hour, Judy's contractions became closer together. By eleven o'clock, the doctor told Judy it would be time to push soon. But upon hearing this, Leslie asked her mother to slow down.

"_WHAT?_" she gasped in confusion and dismay, thinking she might have heard the doctor.

A nurse laughed and tapped Leslie's shoulder. "Miss, don't ever ask a woman in labor to slow down like that. 'Less, of course, the _doctor_ says so." She winked at the physician who smiled, but kept watching Judy. "Anyways, why do you want her to slow down?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm thirteen today…I just didn't want both of us to have the same birthday."

A chorus of birthday good wishes from the doctor and four nurses sounded out, but was quickly cut off when Judy started groaning with another contraction.

"Who's going to cut the cord?" Dr. Wiggs asked calmly.

"Me," said Leslie, with a less than enthusiastic wave of her hand.

"Alright. Stand here," she instructed, switching her and Jesse's place. "You're not squeamish about blood, are you?"

Leslie shook her head no, but every other movement and expression she exhibited said yes. The doctor smiled reassuringly.

The kids found themselves less involved with assisting Mrs. Burke than they thought, but only because Jesse's mother was coaching her expertly. At eleven-fifteen, Dr. Wiggs announced that it was time for Judy to start pushing. Jesse felt Leslie's hands clamp on to his arm. "This is it, Jess," she said feebly, as though they were about to jump off a high cliff together.

Over the next few minutes, they heard Mrs. Aarons talking firmly to Mrs. Burke, reminding her to focus, breathe deeply, and push for a count of ten. Both kids tensed whenever Mrs. Burke cried out, but mercifully, they didn't have to listen to it for hours, as many do.

Dr. Wiggs asked the kids and Mary, calmly, if they wanted to see the top of the baby's head. Mary glanced over quickly but turned back to coach Judy through another push. Leslie pulled Jesse behind Dr. Wiggs and they looked at it together. Both were stunned, though Leslie was a more familiar with what she was seeing. Jesse's eyes were open wide and he tried to return to his spot next to the chair. Leslie, however, held his arm even tighter. "Let's watch," she whispered. Jesse's stomach gave an ominous gurgle. Then she looked at him strangely. "You're going to be a father some day, Jess, get used to it."

_Yeah, but someday isn't today…_

At the next push the entire head appeared. The doctor said to stop pushing and Judy screamed out that she couldn't, but with her friend's coaching she was able to relax for the few seconds the doctor needed. Using a small blue rubber device, Dr. Wiggs suctioned out the baby's nasal passages and throat. When she told Judy to push gently the rest of the baby slipped out in a gush of fluid and a little blood into the waiting hands. The baby's skin was deep pink with streaks of red blood and white mucous; it coughed or sneezed, Jesse couldn't tell which.

"Clamps," Dr. Wiggs said to the nurse who skillfully secured the umbilical cord a couple inches from the baby while another nurse lifted the newborn out of the doctor's hands and set him on his mother's stomach. "Excellent, Judy. You have a son. All fingers, toes, and other important appendages are accounted for."

"Why isn't he crying?" Jesse asked the doctor.

"Not all babies do. Look at him."

To their astonishment, the boy had raised himself up a couple inches, as if doing a push-up, and appeared to be looking around. Judy and Mary were beaming. In fact, Jesse noticed, both mothers were crying and laughing at the same time. Leslie, choked-up herself, hugged Jesse, and he returned it, feeling his eyes moistening, also. "Congrats, you're a sister," he whispered.

"Ok, young lady, you're on," announced Dr. Wiggs, handing over a pair of surgical scissors. "Cut right between the two clamps." With a slightly shaking hand, Leslie reached over and cut the cord and then handed the scissors back and pulled Jesse to the other end of the birthing chair to see her new brother. But the baby was whisked away to be cleaned, weighed, and have his other vital signs recorded. It only took a few minutes but it seemed forever. While he was being attended to, Jesse looked over and saw a fountain of clear liquid shoot straight up, out of the boy. "What…?"

Leslie laughed. "I bet you did the same thing, Jess."

Mrs. Aarons looked over, and smiling, assured Leslie that he had. Jesse's cheeks turned bright red and he covered his face, but Leslie held his arm tightly.

"Front-half of the plumbing is working, Doctor," the African-American nurse announced. Jesse wondered if they would broadcast when the other half of "the plumbing" worked with as much delight. They did, a few seconds later.

"Les, call your father," her mother panted, as the baby was handed back to her, crying now. She did as told but could not reach him.

Jesse stood watching the mother and child, feeling unequivocally privileged to be allowed the honor of attending such a personal event. Looking at his mother, their eyes met and he could tell she felt the same.

Then Leslie told Jesse to look away.

"Huh? Why?"

"It's ok, Les," Mrs. Burke cut in, with a little chuckle. "If he saw the birth he can certainly handle me nursing the baby." Jesse was still trying to digest what was being discussed when Mrs. Burke pulled the front of her gown open, and, as best Jesse's brain could understand, held her breast with one hand, her right index and middle fingers near the business end, while moving the now fussing baby up to the exposed nipple. He latched on immediately and began to make abnormally loud sucking noises. Everyone laughed. Mary draped a light blanket over Mrs. Burke's shoulder, covering her and the baby. When Leslie looked back to her best friend she saw his face was filled with wonder and amazement. With his mouth open and his eyes tearing, she put both her arms around his waist, hugging him from the side. "Thanks for being here."

All he could say was, "_Incredible!_"

While the mother rested and child fed, nurses cleaned up Mrs. Burke and removed the I.V. pick line. It was approaching midnight when Dr. Wiggs returned with some paperwork.

"Judy, do you and Bill have a name for your boy?"

"Not yet, Mary. We were going to discuss it this week. He'll be here in a few hours and we'll let the nurse know."

"Where is he, by the way? Another signing gig?"

Judy's face fell. "He was in Washington this morning, but he's ok."

The doctor grabbed at one of the stirrups, clearly shocked. "Thank God, Judy. We've received a few patients with radiation exposure here; they've been coming in by helicopter every so often. What a horrible day." Then she looked at the baby. "But far from a total loss, wasn't it? See you tomorrow morning." She smiled and waved goodbye.

Off to the side, in the family waiting area separated from the birthing ward by only a curtain, Leslie and Jesse sat together talking about the day. Jesse was fidgeting nervously, watching the clock tick towards October 21st. Leslie noticed her friend's discomfort, he was bouncing his legs up and down on the balls of his feet. She placed a hand on his. "Jesse, what is it?"

"Nothing…well, it's your birthday. I thought…"

"We'll celebrate another day, ok? Maybe we can do something together, just you and me?" She smiled; it was an utterly exhausted smile, but one that left Jesse feeling warm, nevertheless.

"Ok."

* * *

_No, this never happened. It can't be right._

It _had_ happened here, he knew. But in _his_ lifetime – his timeline - there had been no bomb, and no terrorist attack on Washington. His memory was not all that great, but he was certain he would have remembered something as important as that.

_Something's definitely changed..._

Pulling his thoughts together, he knew where to find the Darkness, and where to go to avoid it. No longer was it the Dark Master; Jesse refused to acknowledge it as such; but it did hold a certain power over him, that power he had surrendered as the price for saving Leslie's life. Yet the Darkness said that he had not brought them both here.

_What could that mean? Did it even matter? Can I trust anything it says?_

Jesse knew he would be pounding on his desk in frustration if he had been alive again, in his future. He thought about what could be happening. He thought about what he knew and what he suspected. He separated facts from wishes. He began a mental exercise he had used in college to reason out difficult problems:

He knew he had once lived as Jesse Aarons.

He knew he had killed himself to free up a thought from his mind that would be sent back in time to his younger self. A thought that would save Leslie Burke's life.

He knew that for some reason, more than a single thought had been sent back. His own consciousness and memories went back, too.

He knew that for the transport to work, he had had to trust the Dark Master with the message and its placement into the right person, at the right place, at the right time.

In all these he was fairly certain.

_But should I be? And if all this really isn't happening, what is?_

His only connection to his younger self's world was through a transient tunnel that weaved about the younger Jesse's mind. He had caught glimpses, sensations, even brief feelings of control, but they all had a price. Whenever he merged with his younger self it caused great pain, although he did not feel it as he had when he was in his own body.

_What is happening to me...and my other self? Perhaps Hastings was right, perhaps the paradox is doing this, besides preventing me from truly dying. Perhaps I created an alternate reality… which would mean that my actions _were_ somehow responsible for the bomb…_ _But how?_

He knew he was asking too many questions but receiving too few answers.

"Are you regretting your decision?" another consciousness said. It was the Darkness.

Jesse couldn't answer that question, so he asked one of his own. "How could I have caused the bomb?"

A bitter laugh echoed in the older Jesse's consciousness. "What happened to your friend's father two months after she died?"

Thinking back, he recalled the Burkes moving right after Leslie's memorial service. He had corresponded with them for a few months until it became too painful to keep the memory of their daughter fresh in his mind. _But two months…_ He had received a letter from Mrs. Burke about Mr. Burke being in a car accident. He was not hurt but the correspondence mentioned something about a long trial…

"Is it the accident you're talking about?"

Jesse could sense the Darkness's air of conceited triumph as it shot around and through his thoughts. "The man he hit was a terrorist. During the investigation of the wreck, his false identity was uncovered and he was jailed. But now, that same man, no longer discovered because your _girl_ hadn't died and her parents hadn't moved and her father hadn't had his little accident, and was responsible for procuring the Uranium that built the bomb."

"The butterfly effect…" Jesse muttered. "Just like the movie…"

The Darkness around him was gloating as it sensed Jesse's anguish.

"Yes."

"_NO!_ _I _didn't do it. I'm not responsible for this disaster any more than Leslie is… was… whatever."

The Darkness departed abruptly, leaving the older Jesse considering his actions, past and future.

_It enjoys tormenting me…but…but… _

Thirty-year-old Jesse Aarons paused in his consideration of what he had just heard. He understood little of how he had moved back in time to save the girl he loved, but enough to know that what the Darkness admitted it knew had nothing to do with either his younger self's life or the one he had lived.

_The Paradox? Could that be it? Could that be the key to…? Something's definitely wrong… how could the Darkness know about the terrorist? _I_ didn't know about him and Leslie couldn't have. And if the Dark Master – the Darkness – came from me… Something isn't right. But what?_

Older Jesse set out, again, to merge with his younger self.

* * *

Leslie, Jesse, and Mrs. Aarons fell asleep an hour later in Judy's room. They were all sitting on the couch and had simply dropped off, leaning against the person to their right: Three dominos toppled over. Leslie and Mrs. Aarons were sleeping peacefully, but Jesse was taking a different course. He found himself in that strange state where dreams seem to become reality. It was the same place he had visited on the plane trip home from Europe ten weeks earlier. He was facing the same man he had then faced: Himself. The older Jesse was more haggard than he recalled, but this time there was no difficulty in communication.

"You're me?" younger Jesse asked, though he wasn't certain he would believe the answer.

"In a way. It's probably more accurate to say I was you... and I've learned that you could never become me."

Both shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember what I showed you last time?"

"I remember a dream about me, I mean, about you… us." Younger Jesse closed his eyes and thought. "Leslie died in your life, right?"

The specter nodded grimly.

"Why am I having these dreams? Is it because I saved her life?"

"These — These aren't dreams, Jesse."

"Yeah, right. One of us _is_ dreaming, and I'll bet it's me," said younger Jesse defiantly. Behind him he could sense his consciousness returning. He knew he was waking up.

"_NO! Please! Don't go!_" older Jesse pleaded, his ethereal hands out in supplication.

His younger self stopped the retreat. There was something familiar about the way the dream talked, something very familiar. "You know what? There's only one way you could be real: If I'm crazy." Younger Jesse began to back away again.

"_NO!_" the fading image screamed: A hideous, piercing scream of despair. Then it said: "I caused the bomb! It might happen again… we have to do something. What year is this?"

More from pity than anything else, younger Jesse stopped just as he was about to wake up. "It's 2008. Why?"

A crazy look came into the older Jesse's eyes. "Yes…yes…he should be there by now… Look, I can _prove_ who I am. Let me prove it to you," he begged. But Jesse shook his head and slipped back into the reality he knew.

Opening his eyes, Jesse looked around the room. He recalled moving from the birthing ward to the current room at about one in the morning. It was quiet, dark, but distinctly a hospital room. His head ached badly, but not so much that he needed to take his migraine meds. Leslie was on his left and his mother on the right. He had no memory of it, but at some point he'd put his arm around his best friend and she had cuddled up to him. Also, a blanket had been placed over all three of them, not that they needed it in the overheated room. Mrs. Burke was asleep and the baby was next to her on the bed, the side-guards raised to keep either from rolling off. The clock on the nightstand read three fifty-one.

Hours before, he, Leslie, and his mother had been sitting quietly, talking about names for the baby. Mrs. Burke was asleep so they kept their voices low. Jesse suggested a few names he liked: Kirk, Dirk, and Hercules, or Herc, for short. Leslie had been trying so hard not to laugh aloud that her eyes were tearing, his mother had been in a similar state. The last thing he remembered was Leslie answering a call from her father; he was still three hours off. The roads out of the National Capital Area were crammed.

Attempting to stretch and make himself a bit more comfortable only succeeded in startling his mother awake. He apologized.

"No, it's ok, Jess," said Mrs. Aarons, herself stretching. "I'm too old for sleeping sitting-up on a sofa. Has Mr. Burke arrived?"

"I just woke up; haven't seen him. Mom, I had another one of those dreams," Jesse said quietly. "The one where I talk to myself...my older self. It's getting, uh, creepy."

Mary looked at her son and cupped his cheek gently; he didn't pull away.

"I'll bring it up at my appointment this week," he said with a sound of defeat. "Think they'll ever stop?"

"Yes, I do, Jess. Do you feel frightened or disturbed by them, or just like you've seen a realistic science fiction movie?"

"I don't know. Sometimes they feel so real, and when I wake up, I think it really happened. This time the older me said it was his fault the bomb went off in Washington."

"Oh, good grief, Jesse," his mother said smiling. "That in itself should prove it was just a bad dream." Trying to change the subject, Mary asked her son how he felt about what had happened earlier.

Blushing – though it was not visible in the dim light – Jesse told her the truth. "It was amazing, especially when the baby popped out."

Mary put a hand to her mouth to stifle yet another laugh. She wanted to tell her son just how difficult it is for a baby to get to the point where it 'pops out.'

"Can we, uh, talk about it some time? I'm not sure what everything was that I saw."

As Mary was about to answer, the room door opened and Leslie's father and Aunt Joan entered. They didn't even notice the three visitors on the couch and went straight to the bed, Joan cooing over the baby as it slept. Mr. Burke just stood, beaming, over his sleeping wife and son.

"_Ahem..._" Mary cleared her throat softly and the new arrivals turned to the sound. "Congratulations, Bill," said Mary, standing and embracing him warmly. "And you, too. You must be Jude's sister, Joan?"

They all exchanged introductions, except Leslie, who was still asleep, her head now resting on a pillow in Jesse's lap as he waved to Leslie's father and Aunt. Bill looked at the boy and smiled briefly when he saw Leslie sleeping. "Some day, Jess, eh?"

Nearly ready to fall back into sleep, Jesse nodded and leaned back as best he could. Leslie shifted a bit, but remained asleep.

"Mary, why don't you take the kids home and get some sleep? We heard on the radio that all schools are closed again tomorrow… I mean, today. Joan and I will stay here."

With everything that had happened on the twentieth, Mary had completely forgotten about calling school to tell them Jesse and May wouldn't be in. That problem was now solved. She woke Leslie who immediately jumped up to embrace her father and aunt. They spoke for a few minutes before Bill shooed them home, with another round of thanks. Before leaving, however, Jesse disappeared for a minute and returned with a funny smile on his face, but no one noticed him, or where he was standing, until that afternoon. An hour later, just as a faint glow could be seen on the eastern horizon, the car pulled into the Aarons' drive and its three occupants stumbled towards the house.

Unlike Judy Burke, Mary Aarons was far more relaxed and trusting of their kids being alone together. At least for another year. She asked if they (both) wanted to "sack-out" in the family room and went upstairs to get a sheet and blanket. By the time she returned, not a minute later, the kids were both lying down, heads at opposite ends of the couch, apparently asleep. She placed a sheet over them and left the blanket on the floor in case it was needed. Before going to bed she noticed that both kids had grown so much in the past year they wouldn't easily fit together on the couch much longer.

* * *

Tuesday brought more heartache and sorrow to the community of Lark Creek with reports of the disaster in Washington, but most of it passed by the Burke and Aarons families. News spread in the Roanoke area of Bill's narrow escape from death, and of two other local residents who were not so lucky, both having perished in the initial explosion early the previous morning. One of the dead, a State Senator who lived on the outskirts of Lark Creek, was well known in the area.

Jack left for work very early that morning, he wanted to stop by the hospital and drop off some flowers for Judy. He was skeptical about even going into the warehouse that day, but having finally landed a decent job, was of no humor or inclination to jeopardize it by rashly assuming an emergency closure.

At noon, Mrs. Aarons took all the kids back to the hospital to see the baby and return Leslie to her family. They stayed only an hour this visit, giving Mary, Jesse, Ellie, and May an opportunity to see baby James, the name picked out not long before.

"Both Jude's and my father's name was James. And _James Burke_ sounds much better than _Dirk Burke_, don't you think, Jess?" said Bill shrewdly, but obviously highly amused by Jesse's early morning prank. "We found the name card you left earlier today. Poor Joan was horrified; she thought we were seriously considering it." Joan was currently asleep on the sofa, exhausted by everything that had happened the day before, good and bad, and the long drive south.

When it came time to leave, Leslie looked desperately like she wanted to go home with Jesse, but said nothing and remained in her proper place. Seeing Judy fall asleep, Bill, who had had to leave almost everything in Washington, rode back with the Aarons, put some items of clothing in a bag, and returned to the hospital before his wife knew he was gone. They were to check out early the next morning and he needed to bring the infant's car seat, currently buckled securely in his wife's car.

With the entire Aarons family finally back together that Tuesday evening for dinner, everyone talked about the events of the past two days, but mostly the Burke's new child. Ellie, who had seldom acknowledged her brother as being good at anything, appeared impressed when their mother spoke of how he handled himself at the birth, and complimented him with genuine approbation. Brenda, though acting more surly than usual, managed to say a couple nice things about the baby, but only with great effort. May, so excited about seeing 'Baby James' again the next day, slipped off the chair and had her plate of spaghetti land on her head. This action would have evoked a sharp reprimand from her father in years past. This time, however, he and the rest of the family laughed. Ellie helped May up to the bathroom to clean up. And as usual, Joyce Ann threw food in a way, Jesse was quite sure, that was made to _appear_ accidental.

Wednesday morning, Mary and Jesse met the Burkes when they arrived home from the hospital. (Joan had returned to Arlington directly from Roanoke.) When the baby was settled for a nap, the two women stole away to the kitchen for tea and a few minutes by themselves. Interestingly, their conversation rapidly shifted from the baby to their children. Both marveled at the maturity Jesse and Leslie had exhibited Monday night, and the way each had supported the other.

As Mary was about to leave, Judy gave her a long, loving embrace, and felt obliged to repeat her thanks for all her friend had done.

Her neighbor smiled, shaking her head. "You know, Jude, it wasn't free. You _owe_ me."

Judy understood her friend well enough to disregard the odd demand, for Mary Aarons would never, _ever_, have required any sort of payment for what she had done. "Alright," said Judy warily, crossing her arms and waiting for some joke or silly comment to explain the remark, "_What_ do I owe you?"

Mary patted Judy's arm and smiled coyly. "The same thing I did for you Monday, come early May." And with a casual wave, she left her friend to work out what she meant.

Overdue for a nap herself, Judy trudged to the kitchen pondering the words. _Monday? May? What's happening next May?_

* * *

_A/N: About "the bomb." It exists mainly to point out that Lark Creek does not exist in a vacuum. Other sub-plots will center around it in the coming chapters._

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	19. Part 3: The Reality

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 19 – The Reality **  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

An hour later, and feeling only slightly more rested, Judy changed Jimmy's diaper and waddled painfully – her body had a lot of healing to complete before she could walk normally again – to the rocking chair in the adjoining room to feed her new son. Thinking back on the day, she laughed at herself and how it had taken her so long to figure out what Mary had said before leaving.

"_The same thing I did for you Monday, come early May_."

She was pregnant, Judy realized. A brief but joyous phone call had confirmed it.

_Insane woman!_ she mused. _But_ _what was the other comment she said on the phone?_ "I told you I would distract Jesse." _Distract him from what?_ Then she counted back forty weeks from early May and arrived at late July… _about the time we returned from Europe…_ She and Bill had been afraid Jack would be upset about the publicity his son had received in the British tabloids.

_That's one way to distract your husband, I guess…_

Smiling, watching Jimmy falling back to sleep at her breast, Judy's stomach grumbled and she realized just how hungry she was. She knew that the baby was placing a heavy demand on her system. Just then, Leslie appeared and she moved the blanket to cover herself, in case Jesse was with her.

"Hi, Mom," said her daughter cheerfully, sitting next to her on the arm of the sofa.

"Hi, where's Jess?"

"Downstairs reading one of Dad's old books. Is baby James up?"

Judy removed the blanket so her daughter could see Jimmy. He was asleep, just having detached himself from his mother.

"_OH MY GOD! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!_" Leslie nearly screamed, jumping up. "You... you... your – it's _HUGE!"_

Judy laughed and almost woke the infant. "Come here, sweetheart, give me your hand," she said, highly amused with her daughter's reaction. Haltingly, Leslie did so. The proffered hand, much to the dismay of the thirteen year old, was guided to her mother's left breast. Judy let go and told her daughter to touch gently. After a few tentative and gently pokes, the hand was withdrawn.

"What...it feels like a hot bag of sand! Are you ok?"

Judy laughed again. "I can't say your father ever described them that way, but yes, I'm fine. Sore, but that will pass."

"What happened? You're like...three times as big as – as, you know."

"Les, what's in there that wasn't a few days ago?"

Suddenly feeling stupid, Leslie blushed. "Sorry. Is that all milk? But there must be a gallon! Are they going to stay like that forever?"

A long talk ensued about nursing and the changes a woman's body goes through after childbirth. Of course, Judy's _hidden_ agenda was to make sure her daughter understood yet another consequence of pregnancy. In that respect, it was not a _totally_ honest explanation, but it sufficed. After sitting with her mother and watching her new brother for a while, Leslie left to find Jesse, poking at her own chest with curiosity, as she walked off, and then holding her hands out to where they would be if three times their normal size.

She remembered to stop before joining her friend.

Just past twelve-thirty, Mary had not returned with lunch as expected, but Judy was loath to call her, feeling the action would be considered rude or demanding, so she asked Leslie and Jesse to check on the promised noon meal. The kids ran off happily to see what was going on. But when they reached the Jesse's house, they found Ellie sitting on the front porch, looking distressed. The car was gone, too.

"Ellie, where's Mom?" asked Jesse, seeing his sister wasn't offering any information.

"She took Brenda to the doctor. She thinks she overdosed on something," replied his sister flatly, not even looking up to her brother.

Jesse froze, but Leslie exclaimed, "_What?_ Like on drugs?"

"_No, whipped cream, stupid! Of course drugs!_" snapped Ellie rudely. "Why do you think she's been so screwed up lately?"

"Hadn't noticed her acting any different," Leslie muttered sarcastically, under her breath.

But the brief tête-à-tête between the teens was lost to Jesse. He was remembering a piece of a dream he'd had. He was _remembering_ seeing Brenda dead on a bed, a needle still in her arm. _Coincidence?_ Jesse thought. _It must be. _Still pondering Ellie's words and the dream, Jesse felt himself being pulled forward by Leslie, into his house.

"Come on, Jess. I'll call home and let them know what's happened."

"Yeah, good idea."

A few minutes later, the kids started back to the Burke's house with most of the meal Mrs. Aarons had prepared. Passing Ellie, Leslie asked if she wanted to join them for lunch. She just shook her head.

Later that afternoon, Mary called to apologize for the problems earlier in the day. Judy told her to forget it and asked if there was anything they could do for Brenda. Mary said no, but it was clear from her voice that there was a problem, and probably a serious one.

* * *

The most negative aspect of James Burke's birth was the attention it focused on Leslie and her family at Lark Creek. Over the past two years, they had been able to keep a low profile, at least locally; that was now changing. In a country starved for good news after the dreadful 10/20 bombing, the famous author's family was a target for stories about something happy. The Roanoke paper's headline, "Famous Author's Dramatic Escape from the Battered City to Reach Wife in Labor," as proclaimed on the twenty-second, signaled the end of their relative anonymity.

The television and radio trucks in front of the Burke's house Thursday morning were yet another sign of change. Hoping he could get the publicity over quickly, Bill came out and talked to the reporters while Leslie slipped out, quite unnoticed, through the woods, and hid behind a copse of evergreens near the bus stop, not far from Jesse and May. When their bus arrived, she darted out and slipped away unseen by the media. No one thought that particular maneuver would work very long.

Forty-five minutes later, Jesse heard his friend groan: The media had also staked out the school, albeit in smaller numbers than at her home. Leslie thought about calling her father and asking for advice, but it really didn't matter, eventually she would have to face them no matter what happened. Exiting the bus, she saw any hope for a normal school life blown away like the dried up autumn leaves swirling around her.

"Just ignore them, Les," said Jesse as they neared the small crowd. Some of the media people were looking at pictures to help identify her.

At first she laughed in response, but then said, "Do something for me?"

"Um, yeah, what?"

"Walk away. You don't have to go through this too."

Jesse stopped for a second, scowling at Leslie. Then he took her hand and marched resolutely towards the reporters with her. "No way. _Nothing conquers us_, remember?" he whispered.

"Jesse, let go, _please_," Leslie pleaded, trying to pull her hand away without creating a scene. "The last time the media saw us holding hands it was all over the front page of the papers."

"No," said Jesse, stubbornly.

But instead of becoming more irritated at her friend, Leslie sighed resignedly and smiled at him. "Ok, Dopey. Here we go."

And they walked forward together.

By the start of the following week the media frenzy had died down, and even the obvious friendship between the kids had not made its way into the papers as feared. Bill and Judy Burke told their daughter to expect an occasional reporter, but any regional or national interest in the family appeared to have subsided. For now.

Unfortunately, local interest in the teenage member of the Burke family had just started. Many of the boys who had shunned Leslie since she came to Lark Creek were suddenly interested in her, particularly at lunch and P.E., the only real places she had felt comfortable with mobs of people around. The eighth graders, above all others, made a point to sit with her, Jesse, and their group of friends in the cafeteria. Mostly they were obnoxious teens who wanted to know how many millions of dollars her parents were leaving their daughter (or she had already been given.) It disgusted her. Tom, Grace, Mikey, and Jesse had come to expect the daily interruptions; they soon arranged their seating in a way that the four of them would surround her, holding at bay all but the most aggressive and annoying students; those usually had to be handled by the staff watching over the cafeteria. Eventually, the Assistant Principal, Ms. Walker, assigned an adult to stand near Leslie at lunch; after that, things became tolerable.

But there was one additional reality that Leslie, and indirectly, Jesse, had to face. It was, initially, brought about by the attention she had gained from the media, and then perpetuated through nature itself. It was the fact that Leslie Burke had gone from a fifth-grade oddity to a seventh grade young woman. Her personality was appealing, if a bit reserved. The only physical aspect of the adolescent that was average was her height, and the only visible blemish was the mostly hidden scar on her scalp; otherwise, she had become, in a word, _beautiful_. Her shoulder-length golden-blonde hair always seemed to stand out in quality, if not length, and was usually the first thing someone noticed about her. Her perfect teeth shone bright with every smile, but always more when she was with her friends – and one in particular. Her slight build and maturing shape was no longer middling, or that of a _girl_. And all these natural and nurtured attractions were beginning to cast a spell upon far more students than just Jesse Aarons.

Unbeknownst to him, this had stared at the school dance weeks earlier. Yet, even Leslie had paid little attention to the three offers to dance she had received from other boys. It simply had never occurred to her that she might be interested in anyone other than Jesse, or that anyone else would be interested in her. And she continued to feel that way: Most of her journal entries over the past ten months had at least one reference to "love" and "Jess" in the same sentence.

The effect Ms. Leslie Burke was having on her peers remained simmering and undetected. The real question was when it would flare up and burn the unsuspecting.

* * *

By November, the kids were well adjusted to the rigors of middle school. Jesse found that if he set up systems, at home and in school, he could manage the hectic class changes and even the mountains of homework, to a great degree. This relieved a lot of school-related stress but did nothing for the other major concern in his life: The two dreams he'd had about himself.

The week after James was born, and as he had promised his mother, Jesse spoke with his psychiatrist about this concern. The doctor repeated his earlier conviction that, while disturbing, the dreams themselves revealed nothing that could not be explained through his everyday experiences or imagination. Jesse mentioned the last comment the 'older Jesse' had made to him about proving his authenticity, to which the doctor replied, "By all means, Jess, let him give it. I promise you, we will find that he can reveal nothing that you don't already know." While this proclamation set his heart at ease, Jesse was not relishing the idea of meeting with a sick bundle of neurons in his brain that thought _they_ were reality.

Thanksgiving came and past, but it was not a joyous event in the Aarons household. For the second time in a month, Brenda had overdosed on some ill-gotten drug. This time she nearly died. Psychotherapy and counseling showed little short-term progress and the troubled teen's parents could do little but hope and pray that the long-term prognosis would be better. With the family situation temporarily in turmoil, the plan to invite the Burkes for the Thanksgiving feast was dropped. Leslie's family traveled to Northern Virginia to be with their relatives and Jesse spent most of the long weekend feeling irritable and lonely. The 2008 Holiday season appeared to have gotten off-track before it even started.

Then, on the first Saturday night of December, Jesse had the opportunity to follow-through on his psychiatrist's suggestion and ask the 'older Jesse' for proof that he was real.

As with the previous two dreams, and with a familiarity he was becoming accustomed to, Jesse fell into the strange world of his subconscious and met with the mind of his _supposed_ older self. His apprehension with the meeting was well founded: Again, on the path to the older Jesse, he saw the life he had lead, and the best that could be said for this experience was that younger Jesse was prepared for many of the disturbing images he saw for a second time: Brenda's death, his father's funeral, his other self's attempt at suicide, and then his successful self murder. By the time it was complete, younger Jesse was prepared to wake himself up, but he knew he would just have to go through the nightmares again if he left. So he waited.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to…die," he answered simply.

_Great!_ "You got yourself here, why can't you leave?" younger Jesse asked, all the while wondering how he would be involved.

"I have a plan, but... I'll need your help. And maybe Leslie's, too..."

"_No way_," younger Jesse stated forcefully. "If I can help you I will, but not Leslie. I have enough nightmares about her dying without... What am I saying? _I STILL DON'T EVEN BELIEVE YOU EXIST!_ You said you could prove who you are. So do it; prove that you _are_ real, and I'm not dreaming about you."

The other mind accepted, in fact, _expected_ this. After all, he would have been just as skeptical when he was twelve, and he _had_ claimed he could provide it, too.

"I'll try, but you have to allow that anything up to this point in our life wouldn't satisfy you because it's not privileged information. I could be repeating something I saw in your mind. Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," younger Jesse said, and then waited. And waited. "_Well?"_

"There is a man in England; his name is Dr. Edmond Hastings. He's a very important man at Cambridge University and I met with him to test my ideas about time travel. He began… or will begin his public work about twelve years from now, in 2020, but he also told me he had been working privately, on his own, for twenty years prior to that. I think if you can contact him, and talk to him about what I've told you, he might be part of the proof I can offer."

"Ok, maybe." But younger Jesse was developing a test of his own, and about something else. "Brenda's on drugs. I saw her die in your...past. When was that?"

"I can give you a date, Jess, but it's not likely to help. In my life she died November 3, 2009..."

"_CRAP!_ _That's less than a year away!_" younger Jesse cried. "Were you going to tell me about this or just...? Never mind."

"But, Jess, that doesn't mean..."

He ignored the older Jesse. "How did she die?"

"Uh, she overdosed on speed. She'd been popping pills and somehow got it in her head that injecting a solution she made in a bottle straight into a vein would be better. Pretty stupid."

"Yeah, well, that's Brenda. Did anyone find out who was selling them to her?"

Older Jesse paused. "Nice idea, Sherlock, but no, we didn't."

"Damn!" Jesse slapped his hands together, mentally, in frustration. Knowing that piece of information would have helped.

"Jess, have you ever been in Brenda's room?"

"No."

"Are you absolutely sure?" the older mind repeated.

"Yeah, she screams at me just for knocking."

"This is important, Jess. If you had to bet your life on it, would you still say you've never been in her room? At least for the past two years. I know we didn't before that."

_We? WE?_ He didn't like the other, older Jesse talking like that. But he thought carefully and the answer didn't change.

"Not even to drop off laundry?"

"_NO!_ I can't _ever_ recall being in there since I was younger."

"This is why you need to be absolutely certain: After Brenda died, we found a stash of syringes taped under her bottom dresser drawer. If you find them you might solve two problems: Saving your sister's life and proving I'm not a hallucination. Do you understand? It's something only I know about, it – it's the proof you need."

"I – I gotta think about this," he temporized. "You know Mom's pregnant?"

"Yeah, I, um, saw that. Sorry for looking, or whatever it is I'm doing that lets me know what you know."

Younger Jesse ignored his counterpart again and was about to end the dream. He had enough information to look into already. "I'll be back after I check things out," he said.

The older Jesse didn't plead with him this time. "Ok. I'm not going anywhere."

He slowly left the dark hole he was in, looking back down on to the older version of himself. And although he did not say it aloud, his older counterpart heard it clearly: _This is crazy. I'm crazy._

When he awoke, Jesse went to his desk and wrote out everything he could remember. In that respect, he realized, what he was experiencing was wholly different from a dream. With a normal dream, he could remember little about what had happened. With these conversations, the details were clear, and he could recall them just as he recalled a conversation with Mikey Sellers or Leslie or his father. When he finished his notes, he returned to bed and tried to get a couple more hours of sleep but could only lay awake, thinking of the motivation his older self was displaying.

_Why is he so persistent?_

_Why did he want to involve Leslie?_

_Why am I talking to myself?_

Jesse threw a pencil across the room in frustration. May stirred, but returned to sleep. He thought back on what had been revealed to him; good, bad, disturbing, frightening – everything. He realized that what was coming to bother him the most was that this thing in his head _might_ be real. And almost as disturbing was the idea that he might have wasted his life away, as the other Jesse had shown him; it seemed absurd. At first.

Thinking back a year and a half, to the day when his best friend had nearly died, Jesse found he could recall vividly the horror of the event. It wasn't just the injuries he and Leslie had sustained. There was something far deeper, far more basic – _instinctive_ – about that day.

He realized that there had been something stirring within him, even before Leslie fell into the creek.

It had started even before Ms. Edmonds had called about the trip to Washington.

It was within his grasp, like a word you know but cannot say.

Pushing his weary brain to the limit, Jesse reviewed everything he could recall about that day, but something was missing. If he and the older Jesse had truly been the same up until Leslie's death, then, he supposed, there must be something they shared _before_ her death that was familiar to both, and powerful enough to make him a very different person than what he was, had she died.

He thought he had the answer. He believed he had the answer. _Was it Leslie?_ She _was_ the one significant and common thread in their lives, up to that point. With her, he was what he was. Without her, he would have become the other, older Jesse._ Could the answer be as simple as that? _He didn't know. It all seemed too fantastic to be true, and he found that he was unconsciously accepting the older Jesse's claims by default, not through the proof he'd been seeking.

Laying silently on his bed, with the soft sound of his sister sleeping a few feet away, a memory came to him. And along with this memory came a sharp, bitter stab of shame. It dug into his mind and brought tears to his eyes as he recalled the event. He had found it.

_But if I _am_ correct... that means..._

Over the next three weeks, Jesse researched everything he had written down about the dream and the enigmatic Dr. Edmond Hastings of Cambridge University. But most importantly, Jesse worked on a way to sneak into Brenda's room and check under her bottom dresser drawer, a task made virtually impossible by her nearly constant presence, or some other member of the family being in the house. He had no success, and after two weeks, with Christmas approaching, he began to wonder if she might die in spite of all his efforts.

* * *

Three events in December marked the highlight of the first half of the school year for Jesse Aarons.

First was the conclusion of the fall cross-country season the first week of the month; the Lark Creek Lions (or the Lark Creek Losers, as some called them) finished the year with a two and six record. But it was far from disappointing, Leslie's participation, combined with her increased respect at the school, gave promise for a larger team in the spring. Jesse quietly kept up his conditioning and consistently out-paced everyone on his team, and lost only two of the eight races. He was voted the team's Most Valuable Player at a small party held after school, shortly before the Christmas break. He accepted the award humbly; far more rewarding to him was the pride he saw in his parent's faces when he returned home that afternoon with news of the accolade from his teammates.

The second event occurred in the second week of December, provided Jesse, and his friends with the sort of entertainment that had, heretofore, been sorely lacking in middle school. That it did not affect him directly, and that it _did_ affect Scott Hoager detrimentally, made the incident all the more satisfying. It was, as the friends recalled many times thereafter, the sort of story school legends were made of. It was along the lines of the time – third grade as Jesse recalled – his teacher, Mrs. Wilkins, refused to allow one of the students in the class access to the bathroom until it was far too late. And it was certainly better than the time Michael Cohan had been slapped, in front of most of the school, by a teacher for being rude. Both stories were legendary at Lark Creek Elementary School.

This second event, as the story had been related to Jesse, Leslie, and Mikey by Grace's brother, Tom, actually had its roots in the first day of school. Hoager's P.E. teacher, Mr. Louis Clarke, had made an off-hand comment about his fondness for adult beverages to another teacher. Scott Hoager, upon overhearing this, and in his never-ending efforts to curry favors from, and suck-up to a teacher, thought it would be a laugh to raid his father's liquor cabinet and bring in a small jar of Scotch Whiskey for the teacher. And in true Scott Hoager form, he did so, taking it into class and promptly dropping the jar on the coatroom floor where it broke and perfumed the entire classroom with its heavy scent. Then, to make matters worse, (or better, depending on your perspective,) he tried to deny any involvement by blaming the spill on his 'pal' Ricky Manning, another notorious trouble-maker. The feint might have worked, except, as Tom pointed out, Ricky Manning was out sick that particular day, thus rendering the excuse _worse than lame_. The only sad part of the story, Jesse opined, was that Hoager had not been expelled, merely suspended for a week. "Don't know why they did that, either," said Mikey mournfully. "It's just like a vacation for him." Of one mind, the others nodded their heads in agreement.

The final entertaining event that fall was precipitated by the aforementioned Ricky Manning and followed closely on the heels of the false accusation made against him. Upon hearing how Hoager had tried to blame the liquor incident on him, Manning made plans for "Fool-proof retribution," as he called it. Apparently Ricky had not heard the adage: _Make something fool-proof and someone will invent a better fool_. Late one Wednesday evening, well past even the most liberal bedtime for a seventh grader, Manning visited the school with two cans of iridescent pink spray-paint. Thus equipped, he proceeded to write in the pink paint, as long as it lasted, S HOAGER, over a number of sidewalks. If the young fool had left it at that, the prank may have turned out more favorably for him. However, being the dolt he was, Manning also painted a small "MR" underneath every S HOAGER. It did not require a terribly intelligent person to 'decode' the secret artist's signature, and by ten the next morning Manning was in the Assistant Principal's office as a County Sherriff's car was arriving. Ricky Manning was also suspended, earning another round of lamentations from Jesse and company. But he also had to work at cleaning the paint off the sidewalks, every day after classes, until it was gone.

The Lark Creek School sidewalks never looked so spotless.

* * *

The Friday before the Christmas holidays began, (or Winter Holidays as they are often called,) Leslie was talking with Jesse at his house about the spring activities they were considering. Both had already signed up for Track and Field, but Leslie was also interested in something more artistic. She tried hinting around her idea, but, as usual, Jesse was interested in more immediate issues, like finding which channel Battlestar Galactica had moved to. An hour later, between TV shows, Leslie started talking about the school's drama program, and how 'unchallenging' it was. This time she managed to evoke a grunt that sounded like Jesse was agreeing with her.

"The Princess and the Pea is just too bland, don't you think, Jess? Not challenging at all." Leslie would have tickled him to get a response, but May had fallen asleep between them, her head on Leslie's lap and feet draped across Jesse's.

"Hmm? Yeah, boring."

Leslie snickered, realizing her friend had no idea what she'd just said. "What's boring, Jess?"

"Hmm? Yeah, that, too."

Jesse's shin received a good kick, though Leslie stirred up more of a reaction from May, at first. When he realized that there was going to be another long Geico commercial, Jesse finally turned his attention towards his friend.

"You have to pee? Here, let me get May up."

"_NO!_ I was talking about the school play, _The Princess and the Pea!_"

"Oh, yeah. Grace said she's trying out for a part. What about it? You want to be the princess?"

"Jess, you really are hopeless," Leslie said, though not too unkindly. "I was talking about how the school play isn't very challenging. I was thinking about trying out for a part in the High School musical this spring."

"No kidding? What are they doing...? Wait a minute; you can't do that, can you?"

"Sure, it's open to anyone here, I mean at Lark Creek. They have parts for five, seven, eight, and thirteen year old girls, and ten and fourteen year old boys; the High School students get the older parts. The show is The Sound of Music. I've never seen the movie but I read the book and heard the soundtrack."

"Oh, _that_ movie. My Mom used to watch it." Jesse picked May up, off his lap, and went to the video cabinet. After rummaging around in it for a minute he pulled out the worn VHS cassette's jacket – empty – and tossed it to the couch. A few seconds and one banged head later, he returned with the tape. "It's almost three hours," said Jesse, looking at the clock. It read nine-oh-five. "Wanna watch it?"

Leslie beamed. "Yes! Can I stay the night?"

"'S ok with me. I'll take May up to bed, you call your parents."

Returning two minutes later, Jesse thought Leslie might have to go home by the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Just the usual," she snarled, shaking her head in disgust, but a second later looked happy again. "Dad will bring my stuff over in a few minutes. Popcorn?"

"Sure, why don't you make it, I'll fight with the VCR."

When the popcorn finished three minutes later, Jesse had just managed to dig an old tape out of the machine and start rewinding the Julie Andrews classic.

"So, you're thinking about trying out for a part?"

"Yeah, either Louisa, the thirteen year old, or one of the nuns."

Jesse found this highly amusing. "You a nun?"

"It's _acting_, Jess. You don't have to _BE_ a nun to play one." There was a short pause while Leslie thought of the wording of her next question. "You ever think of trying out for a play?"

Jesse shrugged, more interested in the rewinding tape. "I don't know."

Leslie leaned over and placed herself in front of Jesse so he couldn't see the TV. Normally this would be impossible, with Jesse being almost eight inches taller than her, but he was slouched down so far on the couch that all his friend had to do was pivot her torso one hundred-eighty degrees to block his line-of-sight. She poked him playfully in the chest. "Go to the auditions with me...please?" She finally had his attention.

"Oh, um...ok, I guess. When is it?"

She beamed again. "January third, at the High School."

"Ok. It's a date," said Jesse, trying to see if the cassette had been ejected from the re-winder, but Leslie blocked his view. And she was still smiling. And her hands on his knees were making him uncomfortably warm. He felt his breath catch when their eyes met, they seemed to be saying something. But then...

"Hello?" Mr. Burke called out, entering the kitchen through the back door. "I knocked but no one... Oh! Uh, here's...uh..." Bill sputtered. From behind Jesse, the kids looked like they were much closer together than they actually were.

Hopping up, Leslie said excitedly, "Dad! Jesse said he'll go to the auditions with me. Is that ok?" Bill Burke could now see that his concern had been for naught.

"Sure. Are you going to try for a part, too, Jess?"

"No, sir. Just, you know, going 'cause Les asked me to."

Unseen to the boy, father and daughter exchanged smiles.

"Jess has the movie; we're going to watch it tonight."

"That's a great idea. Here's your stuff, sweetheart. See you tomorrow."

After giving Leslie a hug, her father left the house.

"Give me a minute, Jess," said Leslie, grabbing the clothes her father had brought and heading to the bathroom to change. She returned a couple minutes later in the same pajamas Jesse had seen her wearing the night he watched her from the road – the night she had said she loved him.

"All set?" asked Jesse.

"Almost." Sitting down next to her best friend, Leslie took his hand and arm, holding it tightly and intertwining their fingers. "Now I'm ready."

He looked at her. _That smile again!_ Jesse swallowed. "Ok." Then he pressed the PLAY button.

Mary Aarons woke up about midnight and could hear the television on in the family room. She had been antsy all evening and now she was cranky on top of it for waking up. Jack lay snoring softly next to her, his big feet sticking out from under the covers, inviting her to cover them. She rose, put on a robe, covered her husband's feet, and went down the stairs.

The Sound of Music was nearing the end, the Trapp family having just sung at the Festival. Jesse and Leslie, she saw, were both awake, watching intently. They were in pretty much the same position – in relation to each other – that they'd been in when the movie started, though their heads had drifted together and were now touching. Mary smiled, and then felt something stirring.

She came into the room, still smiling, and sat next to her son to watch the rest of the movie. When it finished a few minutes later, the kids stretched and looked wearily at her.

"Ready for bed?" she asked. Both nodded. "Oh, wait! Here, Jess, Leslie, touch my stomach." They did and were rewarded by feeling the baby kick.

Jesse put his face down to his mother's growing abdomen, surprising her, and pressing his mouth against her said, "Hey there little brother."

* * *

Judy had thought something was wrong - possibly seriously wrong - based on the persistent pain she was experiencing. The deep internal ache of childbirth that had disappeared a couple weeks after James's birth, had started up again; with her first two children it had not reappeared like this. She'd called Dr. Wiggs about it, but was assured the pain was related to nursing Jimmy, something she had not done as much of with Leslie and none at all with her first child. The answer made sense; breastfeeding stimulated hormones that helped heal the uterus. _That must be it_. Judy felt better. _But if I feel better, why am I snapping at my daughter? Should I have let her spend the night?_

"Hi, I'm back," came a voice from downstairs.

"Shhh! Jimmy's asleep. Be a love and get me a big glass of ice water, Bill."

He returned a minute later with the requested tall glass, but he held out is other hand. Judy opened hers to accept whatever it was he was offering.

"Take all three tonight" he said seriously. "I've been watching you. Where does it hurt?"

Judy smiled. Bill was something of a klutz, but he was terribly observant and liked to take care of his wife. "It's nothing, just my insides healing."

He gave his wife a skeptical look. "Any bleeding?"

"No. I'm probably just doing too much. I think I need six months of bed rest: Can you handle everything?" She flashed him a playful smile.

"If I need to, I will," he said seriously. Judy loved it when he talked like that.

Bill changed into his night attire and got in bed. "Oh crud! I forgot to talk to Jess about Jason's email."

"Hmm. Something tells me we'll probably see him tomorrow."

They both laughed and startled Jimmy who cried out for a few seconds, but then settled back down on his own. Judy moved over and her husband put his arms around her, holding her protectively, her back to his chest.

"Mmm, hold me like this all night?"

"At least until my arm falls asleep," he chuckled, kissing Judy's ear and then playfully running his tongue over its edge.

"None of that, funny boy." Bill let out a pouting sound, but stopped when his wife repositioned his arms and hands. "That better?"

He kissed her neck. "Wonderful... but different."

"You have no idea! Enjoy them while you can."

"Don't you worry about _that_."

"Good night, Bill."

"Night, Jude."

A few seconds later Jimmy cried out, fully awake. Judy detached Bill's arms, kissed his hands, and rolled over. "Sorry, love, Jimmy gets first dibs on those."

"Mm Hmm."

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	20. Part 3: The Date

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter 20 – The Date**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

The Aarons' Christmas Holiday plans, much like those for Thanksgiving, were dependent upon Brenda's stability more than any other factor. There had been no more emergency trips to the doctor or hospital over the past few weeks, but neither was she completely healthy; that was plain for anyone to see. But whether it was due to drugs, withdrawal from drugs, or Brenda being her 'normal,' obnoxious self, it was hard to determine. And her parents' anxiety over the situation was obvious to anyone who knew them.

With the drug issues apparently in-check, at least for the time being, the other immediate concern with the wayward teen was school. Never an over-achiever, Brenda was now so far behind in her work, and had missed so many classes, that the Lark Creek Assistant Principal expressed serious doubts that she could successfully complete her Junior year. When her parents pinned her down, trying to obtain a commitment about whether to continue on or withdraw for the year, Brenda only shrugged and said she would try. Encouraged, even if only slightly, Mary set out to find tutors to help her daughter catch-up on the work she needed the most help with. Her father sought out other ways to finance the extra two-hundred or so dollars per week this help would cost. Unfortunately, as an employee working mostly on commissions, winter was not the time of year to expect extra customers in the farm and building equipment rental business, and the extra revenue they brought.

There was one idea he considered. _It had worked before._ _Could it work again?_ Until the time came, however, the family budget was tightened. With Christmas approaching, this did not sit well with Brenda's siblings.

Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the intervening six weeks had been so full of activities, homework, chores, or other goings-on, Jesse and Leslie had little time with each other outside of school, their Friday nights together, and one long Saturday hike to find Mr. Boone and drop off a Christmas gift. (The old man was not at the cabin, and with the shortened daylight hours they could not wait around for him, so the present was left in front of his door.) Even their morning runs had become sporadic: Shorter days and cold weather hampering their excursions. Usually they would just wave goodbye after getting off the bus and meet again the following morning.

These separations, while predictable, had begun to consistently stir in Jesse another new set of feelings, most markedly, _loneliness_. When he thought about it enough, he could see the connections being built between himself and his friend, and how they had become so much a part of the other's life. But it was scary, too. Looking into the future, Jesse knew there would be times they might be apart for log periods, perhaps even years. These thoughts were uncomfortable, and he buried them as swiftly as possible, all the while knowing they would come back to haunt him, eventually. For now, seeing Leslie walk away five days a week left the boy empty: It was a struggle he tried to hide every weekday as he started the walk home.

Leslie would often see this in her friend, a look of gloom or unhappiness as he turned away, but she sighed to herself and continued inside. She had clearer instincts on how to deal with the separations, based on logic and a better control of her emotions – or at least some of them. She too felt an ache in her chest at these partings, especially if they had been holding hands; that was when it was most acute. It was strange, she would think, that the closer they became the harder it was to let go. Leslie often wondered if these feelings were related to love or familiarity, but she was reluctant to ask her mother.

One special event Jesse had set his mind to planning, for a day between Christmas and New Year, was fulfilling his promise to Leslie about her birthday celebration, the one which had been aborted by Jimmy's birth and the terrorist strike in Washington. He remembered her words shortly after the birth, about doing something together, just the two of them. So he knew, from the start, that this was a requirement. And he too wanted the time with just her; no other family around. Of course, this greatly limited his selection of possibilities, so he asked his father for some ideas.

"Is this like a date, son?" Jack asked, his normally passive facial expressions showing the smallest hint of a smile. The boy hadn't thought of it exactly like that, but answered simply, "I guess so."

"Ok, you could go to a movie, or hang out at the mall. Your sisters say it's the thing to do these days..."

"Nah, too many people, Dad. I want something where it's just Les and me."

"Jess, if you want it to be _only_ you and Leslie that pretty much narrows it down to nothing. Even going out to eat involves other customers being present." Then looking over the top on his reading glasses and giving his son a piercing gaze, Jack said, "What's so important about you two being alone?"

His son frowned. "_Nothing_, Dad. It's just that we're always with our family; we wanted to be by ourselves."

Jack nodded, a bit suspiciously, before continuing. "How will you get to wherever you end up going?"

_Oops!_ "Oh, yeah... I guess we'll take a cab."

"All the way to Roanoke! It'll cost a hundred dollars each way. Try again."

"Um, maybe you or Mom, or Leslie's father could take us?" said Jesse hopefully.

"Ok, I'm sure that can be worked out. Now back to the place. How about that, uh, Shenandoah, or Appalachian museum in town? You could look around there a couple hours, have lunch – there're a peck of places to eat down there – and it's a safe part of town – then I can pick you up after work, mid-afternoon-ish, and bring you home."

Jesse considered this. "That might work... Yeah, I like that idea. Thanks, Dad." His father smiled and waved it off. "Dad," continued Jesse, "I guess, because this _is_ our first real date, do I have to, you know, do anything special?"

Trying not to laugh at his son's inexperience and innocence, Jack bought time by scratching his chin and looking pensive. "Jess, you and Les _have_ been dating for a while now, it isn't anything new, really. All those hikes up into the mountains you two take, those are all like dates. But I understand what you're asking… 'Anything special?' Hmmm… You should take a shower and brush your teeth."

Jesse scowled. "Cut it out, Dad, I know that. I mean, like, should I pay for lunch? What do I do if we get bored? That sort of thing."

The father nodded and started addressing the questions as presented to him, methodically, reasonably, kindly…. "Jesse, now that you've earned some money you can pay for both of you, but if she insists on paying her share, you know, 'going Dutch,' let her…. But she won't," he added.

"And I've never known you two to be bored together, so I wouldn't worry about that."

"As for the rest of it, son, remember, you're only twelve. Take your time. Play it by ear. _Let her lead_."

* * *

As the Christmas holidays approached, life became far more festive and stable than Jesse could have hoped or expected. By the later part of the month, Brenda seemed to be responding to her therapy and medication, and for the first time in weeks was civil to her siblings on a regular basis. With this additional burden removed, his parents felt they could extend an invitation to the Burkes for Christmas Eve dinner, and, if they desired, to attend midnight Mass with them. The dinner invitation was gladly accepted, but only Leslie would go to the late-night service. Judy and Bill did say, however, that they would consider it the following year when the baby was older and they were not as sleep-deprived. And as they had done the previous year, the Burkes invited the Aarons to brunch on Christmas Day; this was also immediately accepted.

The Aarons and their guest arrived at the Church a little after eleven o'clock Christmas Eve, both to be assured of seating and to join in singing the carols preceding the service by thirty minutes. Yet even at that early hour there was no single pew to hold eight people sitting together. Jesse immediately volunteered to find a seat, and waved to his family, with Leslie in tow, as they moved back a few rows. Not a minute later, the kids were delighted to see the Jacobs family filing into their pew, all four dressed in their best clothes. Even Tom and Grace, both of whom seemed ready to fall asleep, were outfitted better than Jesse or Leslie had ever seen them. The four friends started chatting quietly until the carols began a few minutes later.

Jesse was pleased to see that Leslie was joining in more songs this year, and she was singing with a passion he'd never noticed before. He also noticed, for the first time, that she had a pretty singing voice. Next to them, Tom, Grace, and their parents were also warming up to the seasonal songs. Half way through the carols, Leslie put her book down, placed her arm around Jesse's waist, and pulled him closer to share his book. It gave the burgeoning adolescent a content feeling, both spiritual and physical; he found himself wishing for many more Christmases together like this.

Next to them, Tom prodded Grace gently with his elbow and nodded towards their friends. She gave her brother a brief, cool smile in return, and then went back to singing.

The Catholic High Mass for Christmas Eve was long and full of song, containing rituals having been defined and refined over two millennia. And it seemed to last forever. Jesse knew Leslie was something of a night owl, but even her eyes had begun to droop by the end of the Consecration, and he was not far behind. But, as always, both revived for the Gesture of Peace and embraced warmly, though nowhere near as long as they had done the previous year. Jesse also shook Tom's hand, looking as manly as he could, and then found himself pulled into another hug, this time by Grace, whose weary, long-suffering expression had disappeared.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered in Jesse's ear. He gave her an awkward pat on the back and a smile that made Grace look as if it was the highlight of her year.

At Communion, Leslie gave Jesse her usual disgruntled look because she wasn't allowed to receive the wafer. Try as he might, he had never been able to adequately explain the necessity of being Catholic to her, (let alone Christian,) as a requirement to partake in the ritual. But by the time he had returned to the pew, she showed no further irritation.

Following Mass there was a short reception in the church hall where one of the adult parishioners, dressed as Santa, collected gifts for the parish priests. In a brief ceremony, he presented the gifts, often along with a couple small bags of coal, usually from a member of the Parish Council. It was all good-natured fun, and even Jesse partook in the gift giving. He had drawn a picture of the church and attached buildings from across the street, framed it, and anonymously slipped it into the large red bag of gifts. And he too had received a surprise gift that Christmas, discovering a small, neatly wrapped present in his coat pocket as he walked to the cars with his family and best friend.

Nearing two in the morning, the Aarons arrived home. Jesse made up the family room couch for Leslie to sleep on. She needed no time at all to fall into a deep slumber.

Immensely curious about his gift, but not wanting to open it until he was alone, Jesse sat up in his room while May (who had wanted to sleep in the family room with Leslie) took her time dozing off. By two-thirty, barely able to keep himself awake, Jesse was at last able to open the present and found inside a small box of chocolate candies. On it was a note, neatly folded over. It read:

_Dear Jess, thank you for being a friend. Love, Grace (Jacobs)_

Jesse had to laugh at the signature. How many other friends named _Grace_ did she think he had? Climbing out of bed, he made a note to thank her for the gift.

* * *

At Christmas brunch with the Burkes, far too few hours later, the families exchanged gifts. To avert any awkwardness, Mr. and Mrs. Aarons told Ellie, Brenda, and May that only the parents, Jesse, and Leslie were planning to take part in the exchange. Of course, May couldn't help but give something to Leslie, a crayon drawing of her brother's best friend, and of good quality, too. It was clear that she had inherited at least some of Jesse's artistic talent.

Mary and Judy exchanged gifts, including a 'Distract-Him' bag for the most recent expecting mother.

"That's for you for the next time your husband needs something… _special _to distract him," said Judy.

The package contained a joke book, a whoopee cushion, a box of dominos, and a bottle of non-prescription sleeping pills. When Mary stood to hug Judy, her friend whispered in her ear, "I told Bill to buy some… _ahem_, condoms… but he chickened out." Mary covered her face in embarrassment as she laughed.

The husbands exchanged confused looks.

Much to his dismay, Jack had been told that he could not give Bill another bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey. He did, however, manage to slip a miniature into his and Bill's eggnog when their wives were not looking, and then nearly choked seeing his friend's face when he tasted the unexpected additive.

Jesse's gift year to Leslie was the fortieth anniversary edition of _The Sound of Music_, the musical score for her to practice with, and a complete set of books written by Maria von Trapp, most of which, he knew, she had not yet read. Sitting next to him on floor by the tree, Leslie wrapped her arms around Jesse's neck and kissed his reddening cheek.

Then she presented her best friend with a photo album of pictures from their European trip the summer before. She and her parents had spent hours putting it together, and their work showed. When the others saw it, they wanted a pictorial play-by-play of the trip. Before that, only May and Jesse's parents had asked him for a detailed description of the journey.

At one point, Jesse heard Brenda sighing happily at some of the London pictures. "I think I'd love to visit London," she said quietly, and with more genuine emotion than had been heard from her in months. _She almost sounded human._

Then, upon seeing her brother turn to thank Leslie, she reverted back to her usual form saying, "God, Jess, don't start sucking face in front of us."

Jesse faltered; Ellie kicked her sister, and her parents looked furious; Leslie barely stifled a giggle. Already embarrassed by his friend's kiss, Jesse just gave her a quick, one-armed hug, mumbling his thanks.

Jimmy then proceeded to break the tension by belching loudly and vomiting his latest meal down the front of Mr. Aarons' suit. It was perfectly timed, everyone laughed and the discomfort of the moment was forgotten, at least temporarily.

A while later, after Ellie drove her younger female siblings home, leaving only her parents and brother, Bill and Judy Burke gave Jesse a surprise. The email received from Jason Graham in England a few weeks prior had authorized Bill to extend to Jesse an invitation to rework all twenty-four illustrations for the third printing of his book in Europe, tentatively planned to start in June of 2009. Jesse's parents knew about this already and had discussed the proposal in advance, leaving the final choice to their son. The offer did not come as a complete surprise to him, however, as Jason _had_ mentioned the possibility months earlier in Scotland. Still, he was pleased, and not a little proud to have been considered without having to go through another selection competition. It would also mean more royalty money for him to put away for college, should he need it.

Bill then brought out the contract, admonishing both father and son, good naturedly, to read the details, "Better this time than you did the last."

Later that evening, Leslie came over to view part of the video Jesse had given her, but she ended up, instead, watching him sketch out some ideas for the book illustrations. Usually Jesse did not like having people watch while he drew, but Leslie was always the exception. She sat on the large cushiony chair in the family room across from the couch. It was the most comfortable seat in the house, she thought, because no one sat in it: The room configuration required it to be the only seat that was not in line-of-sight to the television.

She watched quietly, her legs pulled up beneath her and her chin resting on a pile of pillows. Jesse drew intently, stopping now and then to think, and then return to work. Her father's book open on the coffee table between them. He had a concentration in his eyes that was, Leslie thought, almost unsettling, for he acted as if no one was there but himself. At times, when he looked up, their eyes met, but they were devoid of any recognition, as if he was looking right through her. His face was expressionless. Even when he made a mistake and erased something, he appeared neither irritated nor satisfied with his work. And while Leslie enjoyed being with Jesse, she did have to remind herself that she was not being ignored. This went on for two hours.

At about ten Mr. Burke appeared at the door and Leslie gathered her things. Jesse was completely oblivious to her and her father. When Mr. Burke tried to interrupt him, he was ignored. Feeling awkward, Leslie went over to Jesse and touched his arm, saying good night and Merry Christmas. He gave no response.

"That Jess is a real conversationalist tonight, isn't he?" her father half-kidded.

Leslie smiled. "He gets that way sometimes when he draws, like he's in another world. It used to creep me out, but I've gotten use to it, mostly."

Bill Burke took note of his daughter's comment. To him, there had always been something distant about Jesse Aarons, and more so to Judy. It had never concerned him, really. The boy was obviously a normal twelve year old, or at least as normal as a twelve-year-old boy _can_ be. But lurking in the back of his mind were the incidents that surrounded Leslie's near fatal accident and the phrase Jesse uttered, off and on, for the next few months: _Can Leslie come with us?_ It was, to Bill Burke, too convenient; too coincidental.

He shook his head silently as they pulled into the garage.

* * *

On Tuesday, the thirtieth of December, at ten in the morning, Leslie's father dropped Jesse and his daughter off near the _Appalachian Art and Folklore Museum_ in Roanoke. And unless they called for an earlier pick up, they would remain in the area until three when Jesse's father was to pick them up on his way home from work. Both were given strict directions and instructions about what they could and could not do; where they could and could not go; and what to do in an emergency. Leslie had her mother's cell phone and pointed out to her overly cautious parent that she knew how to use it.

The lectures from both sets of parents left the kids more irritated and rebellious than concerned about their safety. When they finally had the opportunity to talk, without one parent or the other present, they mocked them, acting as the other's mother or father, until they broke down laughing.

Bundled up against the sub-freezing air and damp, biting wind, Jesse and Leslie thanked Mr. Burke when he dropped them off, and ran straight to the museum, which had just opened. It was about a block away, down a closed street, that had only one other couple out walking in the seemingly arctic conditions.

The museum was set up in a one-hundred year old stone Victorian mansion that smelled like plaster and musty old papers. Entering, both kids felt what seemed to be knives on their exposed skin: As cold as it was outside, it was hot on the inside. After shedding and hanging their coats, scarves, and hats in a small closet, Jesse and Leslie approached the receptionist rubbing their hands on their cheeks to restore normal feeling.

"Didn't know I could get that cold so quickly," said Leslie, blowing onto her hands and placing them quickly on her cheeks.

The receptionist smiled and greeted them politely. "This stretch of street is always so windy. Frightfully cold in winter. "

Jesse and Leslie nodded in agreement.

"Just you two? How old are you?"

"Um, she's thirteen; I'm twelve."

"Two children… let's see. That's six dollars."

Jesse already had money ready and paid the entrance fee without looking at Leslie.

"Here's a floor plan. If you want the guided tour, Mr. & Mrs. Crump are on the second floor. Have fun."

"We will. Thanks," said Leslie, and then grumpily to Jesse as they walked away, "Thirteen and I'm still a child."

"Me, too," he lamented dramatically.

"But you _ARE_ a little boy," she teased, pushing him away playfully. But when he went to grab Leslie's hand, she sprinted down the hall and up the stairs. He didn't run after her, but watched as she disappeared around the curve in the stairs.

_What would you have done if you'd caught her?_

Shaking off the odd feelings which the thought had evoked, Jesse ran forward after his friend.

Behind them, both could hear the receptionist calling out, "No running, you two!"

The morning was filled with a lengthy but quiet tour of the exhibits, no other visitors being up and about on the frigid Tuesday morning between Christmas and the year's end. Aside from the receptionist, the building was staffed only by the older couple who reminded both kids of Mr. Boone with their rugged, mountain-looking clothing and manners. They also received a private viewing of the non-exhibited holdings in the basement, until other patrons arrived.

Jesse marveled at the Native American hand-worked pottery and the settler's history of the Roanoke area. Leslie was in awe upon seeing the woven blankets from these early pioneers. Completely entranced by the exhibits, nearly three hours had passed when Jesse's stomach started protesting for lunch. After thanking the guides, the kids left to find a place to eat.

The area surrounding the museum had been rebuilt and restored all through the nineteen-nineties and sported numerous restaurants and a number of smaller, family-owned establishments. Too cold to hold hands, the kids pulled their hats down below their eyebrows and walked around the area looking for a café or some other eatery. But it was the smell of snow in the air that was more prominent than food as they strolled about. Soon they found a promising looking deli, cattycorner to the museum and across a large park, which built huge sandwiches and boasted homemade soups.

"Look good to you?" asked Jesse. Leslie nodded, or he thought she did; it was difficult to tell with his eyes stinging and watering from the icy wind. Ducking inside, they were escorted to a booth and handed menus.

When the meal was finished, it was nearly two and both decided to sit in the deli until they had to leave the city. Even Leslie, who loved to shop, was not interested in being outside any longer; her cheeks still stung and seemed permanently colored red from the chill. So with their drinks refilled, and the building nearly empty, Jesse received his wish to be alone with his friend.

But he couldn't think of anything to say, except _happy birthday_.

Leslie, however, did have something she wished to talk about. Smiling, she leaned across the table and took both of Jesse's hands.

"Jess, when you draw, you sometimes look zoned-out, like on Christmas Day when I came over. Did you even know I was there, or when I left?"

"Um, I, yeah, I remember you coming, but…"

"But you're not sure?"

Jesse shrugged. "I just don't remember you leaving."

"Do you remember drawing?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember me coming over and kissing you goodnight?"

"_WHAT?!_" Jesse exclaimed so loudly the waitress peered around the corner.

"I'm just kidding, Jess." _It's not a bad idea, though… _"Seriously, do you remember me saying goodbye?"

"…Yes?" he answered, but with more than a little hesitation. Leslie squeezed his hands and gave him a doubtful look. "Ok, no, not really. It's hard to describe; like I know you're there but – but I'm… I can't explain it."

"Never mind, Jess. It was just wondering."

Leslie _didn't_ want to let it go, but neither did she want to spend the rest of their time alone dwelling on it. Or fighting about it. Ultimately she told herself that if it wasn't bothering Jesse, it would not bother her. Releasing his hands, she changed the subject.

"Still going to the audition with me Saturday?"

Obviously happy to have changed the subject, Jesse answered enthusiastically, "Yeah! Have you thought any more about which part you want to try out for?"

"I've narrowed it down to two, but I haven't made up my mind which. I like Louisa's part better, she's in almost the entire show, but there's almost no solo singing. Then there's Sister Sophia who has a couple solos, but she's only on stage in the beginning." She noticed that Jesse's face had a pained look on it. "What's wrong with you?"

"I can't imagine getting up on a stage and singing in front of people." He shivered involuntarily.

"Jess, you sing every week at church, and you have a very good voice!"

"Yeah, sure. Any day now it's going to start changing."

"It already has, _dopey_."

"Really?" he asked, while giving her a peeved look for the nickname she often used.

Leslie nodded and smiled to allay his irritation. "Oh, I'm sorry." She changed sides of the table and sat next to him. "Don't go looking like you're the only person this has happened to."

Feeling suddenly calm and panicky at the same time, Jesse attempted to smile back.

_Why do I feel like this when she's so close?_

He tried to turn the conversation back to the subject of the show. "Maybe, um, if you decided which you like better? I mean, if you want to do more acting than singing you should go for Louisa's part."

She smiled again. "Jess, that's _brilliant!_ I don't know why I didn't think of it that way." Then she turned away and slumped down saying, "Of course, it doesn't make my decision much easier."

They both laughed.

"Go for Louisa's part," said Jesse abruptly and decisively. "The other one probably wouldn't make you very happy since it's so short."

Leslie shot back up in her seat. "You're right, Jesse Aarons! That's what I'm going to do." Feeling suddenly euphoric and affectionate, she leaned over and kissed her friend's cheek. "Thanks."

Jesse remained faced forward, feeling his face blushing. _Is now the time?_ He remembered what his father had told him: _"Let her lead."_

"Jess?"

He knew she still had her face close to his, and her hand was lightly touching his shoulder. And he also knew that she was expecting him to turn her way. And he knew if he did he would probably have to kiss her. And probably on the lips this time, too.

_What do I do if she pulls me in and mashes our faces together? What do I do if I have to sneeze or cough in the middle of it? What will she think if I'm a bad kisser? I don't want to do this…_

_Let her lead…_

"Jess?"

_Crap! I'm too young for this…_

"Jesse Aarons…earth to Jess, you there? Did you zone-out again? You know, you have a smudge of ketchup on your nose."

Absolutely horrified, he felt his nose. Nothing. He could sense Leslie stifling a laugh and turned to rebuke her.

_Arghhh, I fell for it!_

She smiled, her face just a few inches away.

"Hi there," she whispered.

"Um…hi?"

"Thanks for taking me out. Is this… you know, like our first real date?"

Jesse desperately wanted to turn away but thought it would be rude.

"I…I guess so. Um, do you want it to be?" _My God, Aarons! What a lame question!_ "I mean, _yes_, it is."

Leslie smile became even wider, but to Jesse's surprise (and relief) she did _not_ kiss him. It suddenly occurred to the twelve-year-old, as they sat there, alone, with what must look like very silly smiles plastered to their faces, that Mr. or Mrs. Burke may have given their daughter the same advice his father had offered (_Let _him_ lead_) which meant they would be sitting there a very long time waiting for the other to initiate the action.

Breaking the silence and drawing Jesse's eyes back to her own, Leslie said simply, "Thank you."

_Ok, I'm going to…_

"You kids want anything else, or you just gonna sit there another hour?" the waitress asked, startling both of them. Jesse, who was steeling himself to actually kiss Leslie, or so he told himself, gave the waitress a withering look and asked for the check. She pointed to the table where she had left it earlier. It was now soggy from sitting in a puddle collecting at the base of his glass of ice water.

He smiled sheepishly, and doing some quick mental math, handed her a twenty.

"Keep the change," said Jesse.

With a confused look, she thanked him and cleared the table.

"_Whoa! Jess, it's three! Come on!"_ cried Leslie, looking at her watch.

Throwing on their coats and hats, they ran out of the building back into the frigid air. A light snow was beginning to fall and it was not melting as it landed on their clothing. Two blocks later they saw Mr. Aarons' truck pull to the curb a block from the museum. Just on time!

The ride home was filled with excited talk about the museum, the upcoming audition, and the snow - which was now falling heavily. As they drove west and into the mountains, it became heavier still. Soon there was enough on the ground to cover the grass, and the infrequent traffic left most of it on the roads. Mr. Aarons slowed down and with more than half the ride home yet to go, changed into four-wheel drive.

"Les, you best call your mother or father and let them know we're going to be late," said Mr. Aarons, his voice unusually quiet.

"Is everything ok, Dad?"

"Sure, son… except for the snow and ice on the road we're in great shape."

Jesse laughed, having become used to his father's sarcasm, and appreciative of the way it would defuse tense situations.

Leslie was just starting to tell her mother about their delay when the truck hit a patch of snow-covered ice and twice spun completely around before Mr. Aarons could regain control. Jesse Jr. and Sr. laughed nervously, with eyes bulging. Leslie screamed, and then spent the next few minutes trying to convince her mother they were safe.

"We're fine out here, Judy, just making some donuts... _he he he_," Mr. Aarons called aloud, when he could tell by Leslie's repeated comments that she was not having much luck calming her mother.

"Mom says she hates you, Mr. Aarons," said Leslie loudly in response.

Over the phone they could all hear Judy denying it vigorously.

Once they had crossed the pass in the mountains, the rest of the trip home was uneventful. The front was approaching from the southeast so snow had only just started accumulating in the valley. Mr. Aarons dropped Leslie off at a quarter to six and Jesse asked his father if he could walk home. The snow was just beginning to cover the ground at that point so he gave him permission. Jesse thought he saw his father smiling as he drove off.

In spite of the cold and precipitation, the two kids walked slowly to the porch and front door. Leslie called into the house that she was home and would be on the swing with Jesse for a few minutes. Her mother, nursing Jimmy in the family room, waved at her, clearly relieved she was safely back.

Jesse and Leslie were about to sit together on the swing, after shaking the snow off the cushion, when Bill Burke came out and handed the kids a large wool blanket, and reminded Leslie dinner was in thirty minutes. Then he went back inside. Taking the hint, the kids stood and wrapped the blanket around them and sat back down. It was infinitely warmer.

"I had a wonderful time today, Jess, thanks for the birthday present," said Leslie after a few seconds of silence.

Jesse was thinking the same thing. And more.

_Maybe this dating thing isn't so bad after all._

Then he thought of the money he'd spent on lunch and the museum, a hugely extravagant sum for him, though he didn't think it ill spent by any means. He was very thankful for the opportunities he'd had over the past year that provided him with the extra money. Two years ago he knew he would _never_ have dreamed of having or spending so much, let alone hearing talk of a college scholarship. As he sat holding Leslie's hand, he began to realize how much of it had come to pass because of their friendship...

Because of their love.

"Les?" he said a bit loud, turning her way.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for… I mean, thanks." He leaned forward, turning his head until they both heard his neck crack, and kissed Leslie full on the mouth.

Totally astonished, stunned, surprised – having resigned herself to let Jesse go at his own pace – all Leslie could say was, _"Oh!"_ when they pulled apart. Then she then threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. She smiled to herself and realized that Jesse had done much better this time than eight months earlier on his birthday. She also realized the kiss was everything she had expected….and nothing at all like what she had expected.

But her final conclusion was that it would take a lot more attempts to be able to accurately determine whether Jesse Aarons was good at it or not.

And she had no intention of waiting another eight months for the next try.

* * *

**December 30, 2008**

Dear Diary,

Jess finally did it! He gave me a real kiss. What a wonderful day we had together, our first date! I am definitely still in love with Jesse Aarons. Even Mom is being reasonable these days. What could be better? Let me think, I get the part in the play? Yep, that would do it. And maybe Jimmy barfing all over Jess's father again.

* * *

Judy Burke had certainly been more reasonable lately, but not as much out of choice as out of necessity. Jimmy was tiring, of course, but it was the nagging pain in her lower abdomen that gave her the most concern. She had a check-up appointment with her obstetrician, Dr. Wiggs, in a few days for some tests and blood work.

_She probably wants to rule out infections and things like that._

But she didn't feel too confident with her own diagnosis.

The snow was cleared from the roads by Friday when Bill Burke drove his wife into Roanoke for her appointment. Leslie was spending the day with Jesse, ostensibly preparing for the upcoming audition. Both husband and wife were quiet and more than a little apprehensive. Judy had always enjoyed excellent health, so on top of being unusual, the pain had a frightening, unknown quality to it. It had an obvious connection to the birth of James, or so they speculated. But outside of that, they hadn't a clue.

At the medical arts building, Dr. Wiggs greeted her patient and made happy noises over the baby while she gave the ten week old a quick examination. He was proclaimed healthy.

"Now, let's look at you," said Dr. Wiggs. "Show me where it hurts."

She ran Judy through a battery of pokes and prods, and a nurse drew blood for analysis. All the while, Bill was holding the sleeping baby, standing in the corner, looking on with a mixture of fright – that they had to be there at all – and relief - that his wife was finally being checked out. But aside from a comment about Judy's gurgling stomach, liberal use of the stethoscope, and a few more abdominal prods, the doctor gave no indication that she suspected any one particular ailment.

Next they changed rooms and a technician performed a long, drawn-out ultrasound of the internal organs from the liver on down. Judy was then sent back to dress and wait with Bill for the test results.

Mary Aarons was cleaning up lunch dishes when she heard a car door shut. Looking out the window she saw Judy, bundled heavily against the cold, walking up to the house. Knowing her friend would let herself in, she called out to Leslie that her mother had arrived and returned to scrubbing macaroni and cheese from the inside of a pan.

But Judy didn't appear and Mary was suddenly filled with dread, recalling why she had gone into town. She ran to the door just as her neighbor was opening it.

"Hi Mom!" called Leslie, seeing her mother enter. Then she stopped. "What's wrong?"

Mary saw her too. She felt like a brick had fallen into her stomach.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	21. Part 3: The Concerns

**A Life Rescued  
Part 3  
Chapter ****21 – The Concerns**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Mary didn't think, didn't ask, didn't care, all she _could_ do was react. She pulled Judy to herself and wrapped both arms around the woman. A second later Leslie joined them, her own questions lost in the general chaos of the moment. Then the door popped open again, this time it was Bill and the baby. But when she saw Bill, Mary Aarons experienced a burst of fury and a strong inclination to release his wife and punch the man.

He was smiling.

"_What's going on?_" she cried over Judy's shoulder. _"What's wrong?"_

"What's wrong? Nothing's wrong, Mary!" exclaimed Bill, not understanding the hateful look he was receiving; the smile _he_ had walked in with was fading in the face of the wrath of his wife's best friend. "Didn't Jude…?" Then, scurrying around so he could see his wife's face, he asked, "Judy, didn't you _tell_ her?"

"_No!_" she sobbed. "I haven't had a chance."

"Ah, well then… and why are you crying?"

Mary, now completely confused, released Judy and backed away from her neighbors. They seemed to be trying to determine the best way to celebrate a case of plague. Judy was drying her tears on her jacket sleeves and Bill had a goofy look on his face. Rendered momentarily speechless by the changing scene before her, Mary watched on as Bill's face went from goofy to happy, again…. and Judy didn't seem to be crying because she was upset. Their poor daughter, however, looked disgusted and backed away, despite her mother's entreaty to remain.

"_What's going on?_" asked Mary a second time, more demandingly.

Bill said nothing as his wife blew her nose into a paper table napkin. But it was Leslie they heard next, she had been staring at her mother.

"You two are _gross!_ Daddy, how could you?"

"Who's being gross?" asked Jesse cheerfully, entering the room happily, believing he was about to witness a food fight.

Now Judy started laughing, or crying again, it was difficult to tell which. She mouthed an apology to Mary, who was still looking as if she wanted to punch someone, and walked to Leslie who was standing against the kitchen doorframe and embraced her. "I'm sorry, Les. And it wasn't only your father, I had something to do with it, too."

But the young teen refused to be calmed and pulled away from her mother. "Come on, Jess, let's let the _adults_ talk," she snapped, and not too kindly, either. Taking Jesse's hand, she ran up the stairs with him.

"What's going on, Les?" asked Jesse as they entered his room. But before she answered, Leslie asked May if they could be alone for a few minutes. Jesse's roommate stuck out her tongue at them and started out, carrying a new toy from Christmas and dramatically feigning emotional injury.

"She ought to be an actor," giggled Leslie as she closed the bedroom door. Crossing the room she plopped on the bed next to Jesse and looked at him. Her face was difficult for him to read, she appeared both annoyed and delighted; he didn't believe one person could be both at the same time and wondered if he was reading her wrong.

"Jess, my Mom's pregnant again."

This answer was so completely out of the blue, Jesse asked Leslie to repeat it.

"She's pregnant. Before her and Dad left this morning she told me it was possible. I sort of thought she was joking. I guess she wasn't." Laying back on the bed, Leslie rubbed her face and sighed. "You got to admit, it _is_ funny in a way. Here she's been warning me about being careful…when I'm older, and she can't even stop herself."

Looking a bit uncomfortable with the topic, and hoping it would end the conversation, Jesse pointed out that her parents _were_ married adults.

"I _know_ that, Jess," said Leslie in exasperation, "but you're not supposed to… _do it_ so soon after having a baby."

"Oh," was about all the response Jesse felt up to making to that remark.

Leslie suddenly looked even happier. "Irish twins! We'll have Irish twins."

"Huh?"

"You're Catholic, Jess, and you've never heard of Irish twins?" Leslie briefly explained the term and its origin. Then she went to Jesse's desk and looked at his calendar, paging through 2009. "God, Jess, it'll be _really_ close to my birthday. Wouldn't that be a hoot? Bill and Judy Burke's three children all with the same birthday."

Plopping back down on the bed, Leslie pushed Jesse playfully onto his back and rested her head on his stomach like a pillow. Taking his hand, she maneuvered it to her abdomen and held his arm as if she were snuggling with a stuffed animal. All the while, Jesse lay motionless, wondering about the appropriateness of them laying on the bed together – something they had been doing more often, but always with May nearby and the bedroom door opened. Eventually he relaxed and found he liked the closeness more than he cared about its propriety.

"This has been the strangest two years anyone's ever had," declared Leslie, sighing deeply.

"You can say that again."

"This has been the strangest two…"

"Oh Lord, Les, I didn't mean you _should_ say it again!"

Both laughed. Then Leslie rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, her face just inches from Jesse's.

"Kiss me?" she asked quietly, blushing only slightly as she moved closer.

"Um….why?" squeaked Jesse, suddenly aware he was sweating and feeling unusually warm.

Leslie shrugged, then leaned forward and their lips touched briefly.

"We need more practice, that's why," Leslie said, matter-of-factly, smiling. And very glad she remembered to say "we" instead of "you."

"Um… uh, are you all ready for tomorrow?" asked Jesse, trying to distract Leslie when she didn't move away.

She disregarded his question and arching her eyebrows, whispered, "Wanna kiss again?"

Torn between desires – both ways – Jesse gave in, reluctantly. But in trying to sit up, he banged Leslie's nose with his forehead causing her to cry out.

"Sorry. I guess we _do_ need more practice."

Again, both broke out laughing and started tickling each other. After a few seconds, Leslie pinned Jesse and rested her head on his chest, massaging her nose. Her friend was happy for the respite; the tickling seemed to assault Jesse with more feelings than those usually attributed to such activity.

Then, just as Leslie was turning his way again, there was a sharp rap on the door and Mrs. Aarons' face poked into the room. To say she was surprised to see the kids so close together would be an understatement.

"Leslie, your parents want to go home now," she said sharply. But the teen didn't pick up the suggestion that she go with them immediately.

"Ok, thanks, Mrs. Aarons. I'll walk home in a few minutes."

"_No, you'll go home now_," Jesse's mother said, clarifying herself in no uncertain terms. Leslie looked more shocked than anything, but jumped up and trotted off, solemnly waving goodbye as she went.

When Jesse started to get off the bed his mother told him to sit and wait for her to return. She did two minutes later, after seeing the Burkes out. Then she lit into him.

"_JESSE AARONS, WHAT IN THE NAME OF SWEET BABY JESUS WERE YOU THINKING?_ _I allow you and Leslie a little more freedom because Judy gives you less, and you go and do something stupid like this!_"

"What'd I do?" asked Jesse defensively, trying to sound innocent, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

"Jess, you know how… _protective_ Judy Burke is about her daughter. You _know_ it. What do you think happened when May Belle came downstairs and said you two wanted to be alone in your bedroom together?"

Jesse's insides knotted-up. "Oh…yeah."

"'Oh…yeah.' _Is that all you have to say?_"

"Sorry?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Sorry… I mean, I was saying I'm sorry. I didn't think, I guess."

Mary Aarons let her stern features relax for a few seconds and told her son the rest of the story. "Fortunately, Judy was in my room changing Jimmy when May Belle spoke up, so only Bill heard it. You got lucky, this time."

Jesse could see that his mother's anger had mostly blown over. Not that he was completely out of trouble, yet. She sat next to him on the bed and put an arm around her son's shoulder.

"Jess, I know you and Leslie are very close friends. But please, take it slowly. Promise me?"

"Yeah, I promise. But we didn't do anything much, Mom."

Mary Aarons raised her eyebrows questioningly. "'Much'?"

"Um, yeah, we just kissed… once." _Almost doesn't count…_

Admitting to his mother that fact was both embarrassing and relieving. But with some things, he was learning, Jesse felt more at ease talking with her than with his father.

"Jess, kissing's ok, but not in your room with the door closed. You have to remember, perception is important, even if it isn't really what happened."

"Huh?"

Mary stood and paced, trying to think of an example. "Remember that story you and Leslie told me last year about a bully at school… uh, Janice someone? It turns out that the reality of her situation was very different from the perception. You two _perceived_ her to be a bully because she was just plain ornery, but she was acting that way because, in reality, she needed someone to talk to. Getting caught in bed with your girlfriend, in your bedroom, and with the door closed, may have been completely innocent – or mostly innocent – to you, but what do you think Judy Burke would have done if she'd walked in here instead of me?"

"Um, forbid me from seeing Les?"

"_At least!_ After she killed you."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence during which Jesse realized there might be a speck of truth to his mother's words. "You're joking, Mom, aren't you?" he asked in a reasonably concerned voice.

"Yes, Jess, I am." But she still saw her son heave a sigh of relief.

There _was_ something Jesse was thinking about, however, that he thought he should bring up. It wasn't a typical question, from his perspective, but nothing about his feelings was familiar to him.

"Mom, how do I know if I'm _really_ in love with Les?"

Not expecting such a deep question from her twelve year old son, Mary again sat and thought through the answer.

"It sounds like part of you thinks you are, and another part thinks you aren't. First tell me why you think you are."

"Um, well, I want to be with her _all_ the time… but I've felt that way ever since we became friends… but now I get sad when she's not around. Even when she's being annoying I want to be with her." Jesse easily recalled these words, having spoken them to his father a few months prior. _Some things never change!_

Mary nodded, but didn't speak up when her son stopped talking.

"I get… feelings inside me that I don't understand. Sometimes I can figure them out after a while, but they seem to, you know, switch on and off." Jesse looked down at his feet, his cheeks flushed brightly red.

"That sounds normal to me, Jess. But what makes you uncomfortable, or bothers you about you and Leslie?"

"I don't know… it's like, when we do things…" Jesse paused, clearly unable to put his thoughts into words.

"When you 'do things'? Do you mean like riding the bus to school, or taking those long hikes into the woods…?"

"Um… no, I'm ok with those."

"Ok, so we can safely say just being around her isn't the problem?" Jesse immediately nodded. Mary had a good idea where this was going, and seriously considered turning the conversation over to her husband. But they were here, together, now, communicating well, so she pushed on.

"Jess, are you uncomfortable with things Leslie's doing with you?" A shrug.

"Is it a physical thing?" A slow, shaky nod answered her question.

"Jess, is Leslie touching you in an uncomfortable way?"

"No," he said quickly, "it's not like that."

Mary again waited a minute to see if her son would volunteer more information. He did not. She decided to take the analysis one step at a time.

"Jess, are you uncomfortable holding her hand?"

"No, I like it."

"Ok, does it make you uncomfortable when she hugs you?"

This one he thought about for a few seconds before answering. "No. It used to, but not now."

"Jess, that only leaves kissing," _I hope!_ "Does that…"

But she got no further as Jesse cut across her, lashing out, almost in anger. "_Yes!_ She's acting like she wants to do it _all the time_. Like…like, in here a few minutes ago. She kissed me and then wanted to do it again. I felt funny… I mean, I wanted to do it again, it was nice, but… _I don't know!_ _Nothing makes sense!_ I want to be with her all the time, but when she gets like that I don't… then I do..." Jesse choked up a little as he tried to keep from hyperventilating.

Mary Aarons put her arm around her son's shoulder again and waited for him to calm down before continuing. This was not an unexpected development, by any means; she and Judy had spoken about the different maturity levels of their children many times. They would have to speak about it again.

"Jess, do you tell Leslie when you're uncomfortable with what she's doing?"

"With other things, yeah. But, um, with, you know, kissing, she seems to like it so much. I - I try to do something else, you know, like distract her, but..." Jesse trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"Jess, friendships can't be based on distractions from difficult conversations. If this happens again you need to stop and talk to her about it. Just tell her you, I don't know, tell her you want to do something else."

While this made a great deal of sense to Jesse, now, he knew that the plan was far simpler than actually doing it.

"Ok," he sighed. "Do you think she'll hate me if I won't kiss her?" asked Jesse with complete sincerity.

"No, I don't." Then she had an idea. "The next time you feel uncomfortable, move to a place where there are people around. I bet Leslie was feeling a little bold this afternoon because of the privacy you two had. What do you think?"

"Yeah, that… I guess so. I'll try that. Um, Mom, there is one other thing. Why do I feel like I _want_ to kiss Leslie _more,_ even when it makes me uncomfortable?"

Smiling, Jesse's mother decided to turn this question over to the man of the house.

Mother and son talked on for a while like they hadn't for a long while. Seeing how much her son had matured gave Mary a sense of joy and accomplishment.

When Jesse expressed doubt about his drawing abilities his mother assured him, upon seeing the preliminary sketches, that they would be fine. Mary learned a lot about her son that she never suspected, particularly about his troubling dreams and the insecurities he felt at school. She also confirmed, though not as _much_ of a surprise, that her son was deeply attached to Leslie Burke. That he had someone as special as Leslie to share his childhood with seemed magical at times. But she also had to remind herself that Jesse and Leslie were still children.

Her name seemed to be in nearly every sentence he spoke. His face always lit up when it was mentioned. He described his admiration and respect for her. And as he had said earlier, he wanted to be with her all the time. The only thing missing in their relationship, Mary knew, was a few years of maturity and the knowledge and experience to understand their feelings. And she knew those would be tough years, if they remained together.

With mid-afternoon approaching, Mary had to leave to prepare dinner. Before she departed, however, she said something she thought might help her son.

"Jess, Judy and I can handle you two holding hands and hugging. Kissing will take a little longer for Les's mother, but I'm not prohibiting it. Just… keep your head screwed on. If you can't think clearly, that's a good sign to stop. Ok?"

"Ok, Mom, I will."

"Good. Enough said about that. Oh, about tomorrow: Mr. Burke will pick you up at eight thirty in the morning. Is Les ready?"

"I guess so; she knows all the songs."

"Judy told me Les hoped you'd try out for a part, too. Any interest?"

"_No way!_ She knows that. I don't have the time, either. I'm working on the sketches for Mr. Burke. I have my counseling every week, school work…there's no way I could do it, even if I wanted to, which I don't."

"Good. I wanted to be sure you had thought it through." Jesse's mother headed towards the door and then stopped, turned, and smiled. "Did you hear about Mrs. Burke?"

"Yeah, Les told me."

"I thought so. Is she still mad at her mother?"

"No. She was more surprised than anything. At least that's what she said."

"She wasn't the only one surprised," agreed Mary Aarons, laughing as she walked away.

* * *

Late that evening, Mary came into the master bedroom and found her husband working on a crossword puzzle in bed, though most of his time was spent erasing and looking up words in a pocket dictionary.

"Jesse, I had a long talk with our son this afternoon."

"Hmm? 'Bout what?"

"Sex," she said plainly. It got his attention.

"What? Are you joking me?"

Mary sat on the edge of the bed. "Mostly, yes. He's experiencing some mixed feelings about him and Leslie. Mostly kissing."

"The kiss, eh? Bill told me about the one after their date. What's his problem?"

Mary explained briefly what had transpired that afternoon. At one point she saw a flash of anger across her husband's face, but it faded quickly to sympathy. She was relieved about that. Two years ago he would have gotten a belt and told his son the way things were going to be. That wouldn't work any more, if it had ever worked at all. Mary suspected her husband knew what he had to do and say.

"Ok, I'll talk to him tomorrow. I need to give him _Level 2_ of the birds-and-bees talk anyway."

Mary laughed. "'Level 2'? What's level 2?"

Jesse Sr. cringed. "Everything after First Base."

"Ah, lucky you. Thanks, dear." Mary leaned over and kissed her husband. "That was some bomb Judy dropped today, wasn't it?"

"Yep. Is she happy?"

"I'm not sure. We only talked for a few minutes. She sounded more resigned than happy. Maybe the relief of finding out she wasn't dying is covering up her real feelings. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"You're a good friend, Mary. I'm glad the Burkes moved here…for all of us."

* * *

At Lark Creek High School the following morning, Mr. Burke, Leslie and Jesse stood in line outside the theatre waiting to sign up for the auditions. There were more than two hundred other kids trying out for ten spots, and with their accompanying parents the hallway was packed. Jesse and Leslie knew the Jacobs were somewhere in the crowd, but could not see them.

By ten thirty, with everyone checked in and given a blue card showing their first interview room number, the crowds had thinned significantly. Holding a faded copy of the school's floor plan, Mr. Burke navigated to one of the six rooms where the preliminary interviews were being held. Following a long wait, Leslie's number was called and, looking nervously at her best friend, she waved and headed to the room.

Like the others before her, five minutes later Leslie came back out with an expressionless look on her face. She stood between her father and Jesse and told them she had to be in another room in about fifteen minutes for the first singing evaluation. They gathered their pile of winter clothing and headed down the hallway towards the second stop. As they approached the room, a voice shouted out behind them.

"Jess! Leslie!" Turning, they saw Grace Jacobs running down the hallway after them. They arrived at the classroom at the same time. "Hey! Hi Mr. Burke. Happy New Year," she said cheerfully, then turning to her schoolmates. "Have you had your first interview? How was it? Are you both trying out for a part?" Grace tended to ask questions in groups, so it was only the last one that stuck in Jesse's mind.

"I'm not trying out, Les is."

Grace's face fell a fraction, but she was looking at Jesse and Leslie didn't notice it. "Super! Did you have a vocal audition yet?"

"No, this is the first," Leslie answered, pointing at the room. "How did it go for you?"

"This is my first one, too. Can I sit with you?" Before they could answer, the feisty little girl had already made herself comfortable.

Every fifteen minutes or so, a student came out into the hall, called out three numbers, and the kids holding those cards would enter the room. Even through the heavily painted cinder block walls, a piano could be heard banging out music, and even an occasional voice at the higher end of the scale would escape. Then the cycle would repeat. It was obvious when someone did not do well; they exited the room without their card, sometimes angry, sometimes in tears, always dejected. This rattled Leslie until her friends were able to take her mind off it by playing cards; Grace had brought a pack.

Following a long, nerve-wracking wait, Grace's number was called and she jumped up excitedly. "Wish me luck!" They did so and she ran off to join the other two girls trying out for a part. As with the other groups, she reappeared after fifteen minutes, waving her card at her friends. The other two girls were not as cheerful.

Then they heard Leslie's number called. Grace told her not to worry, that this was just a preliminary test to, "Make sure we can sing." Leslie accepted a small hug from her and stepped unsteadily through the door.

Like Grace, Leslie reappeared a quarter hour later smiling nervously and holding up her card. Accepting another round of congratulations from her father and Jesse, the three headed off to the cafeteria for a snack. The next audition was at one in the afternoon so they had time to relax. Already it was obvious that a large number of the aspiring actors and actresses were no longer in the hunt. They didn't see Grace, either, which bode ill for their young friend.

The one o'clock audition, Leslie said as she exited the room, went well, though they still were not auditioning for specific parts. At two o'clock, Grace reappeared, still in the running for a part, and went into the next room with Leslie where they remained for almost a half hour. Eight girls went in with their blue cards; four came out still clinging to their lifeline for a part.

At the next room, Tommy Jacobs appeared with his and Grace's mother and sat in chairs which had been placed along the walls. And for the first time they saw a number of much younger boys and girls trying out for the younger Von Trapp children's parts.

Leslie was nervously biting her fingernails and pretending to be reading the musical score as the next group was called in, and it was at that point she and the others realized why they were calling in more students each time: They were gradually putting pressure on the less experienced or jittery kids, to weed out those who might show stage fright, by putting them _on the spot_, in front of progressively larger groups of people.

Two hours later, and still retaining her card, Leslie and the others entered the meagerly occupied auditorium to find out where the next audition would be conducted. But they rapidly concluded that there were not enough students for another cut. So instead of the expected panel of judges or officials, the school's drama director addressed them. Following a short introduction, he told them the news all had been awaiting.

"Congratulations for having made it through the past six hours. From the ten of you remaining I will be selecting six for the Von Trapp children's parts. The remaining four, if they choose, are welcome to work with us as alternates, to understudy and be available should one of the primary parts become open."

Leslie and Grace looked at each other, eyes huge, neither having seriously expected this to be the last stop. The director continued.

"When I call your name, please step forward.

"For the part of Gretl: Megan Hammerstein…" The five year old ran forward and hugged the laughing director's legs as she was applauded.

"For the part of Marta: Alison Grey…

"For the part of Kurt: James Worthy…

"For the part of Brigitta: Grace Jacobs…" Grace jumped up and her brother, mother, and friends clapped wildly.

"For the part of Friedrich: Evan Taylor…

"And for the part of Louisa:…"

Leslie's eyes were closed, and she had one hand clamped on her father's arm and one on Jesse's.

"… Leslie Burke."

Having been holding her breath, Leslie blew it out in one loud gasp that amused those sitting around her. She then jumped up and ran to the front of the auditorium.

By five-thirty the day was nearly over. Leslie and Grace sat together laughing and talking about making the show. Jesse and Tommy, who had been wandering around the school to see if there was anything interesting to discover before they started ninth grade in twenty months, had just reappeared. Bill and Grace's mother were talking about the rehearsal schedules and working out carpools.

"We saw that friend of yours, the one you and Jess talk about," said Tommy to Leslie.

That got her attention. "Who?"

"Janice Avery. We went back-stage and she's working crew…" said Jesse.

"She's big enough to _be_ the whole crew," laughed Tommy, earning himself a light slap on his arm from Leslie. "Well, it's true!" he pleaded.

"She _is_ muscular," allowed Jesse. "Kind of like a drill sergeant." Leslie gave in and laughed.

"And she talked Jesse into working on some of the art for the sets."

"It's nothing; they have plenty of good artists at school. I'll probably just be in the way."

"Yeah, right, Jess," laughed Grace. "Like, how many students at LCHS illustrate books?"

"None!" said Leslie, Grace, and Tommy together.

"Maybe I'll tag along and laugh at the girls practicing," whispered Tommy to Jesse, who replied, "I'd be careful who you laugh at. Remember the dance?" Tommy immediately stopped smiling.

* * *

"I'm so excited," said Leslie to Jesse and her father, for what seemed like the twentieth time, on the ride home. "I can't believe I made it."

"Les, we're very proud of you," repeated her father. "Have you seen the rehearsal schedule?" he added more sedately, handing it to her. There was a long period of silence followed by a mild oath.

"Jess, look," said Leslie, far less happy and pointing to the calendar that showed all the afternoon and evenings of practice.

"So?"

"God, you're thick sometimes," snapped Leslie, angrily taking the schedule back. Her father rebuked her warningly. "I'm sorry, Jess," she sighed contritely. "I have practice _every weekday_ after school until six, and every Saturday between one and five."

"Oh," replied her friend, so indifferently that Leslie thought he still might not understand that they would have almost no time together, outside of school, over the next four months. Further convincing her of this suspicion, Jesse started talking about what he saw while he and Tommy were looking around.

"…And they have huge chemistry labs, and the library's new and has a couple dozen PCs with high speed internet access for research. There's fall cross country and spring track and field; real teams!"

Leslie shook her head. _Boys!_

They drove on.

After dinner that evening, Jesse's father came into his son's room carrying his winter coat and a hat. He threw them on the bed. "Get bundled up, Jess, and meet me out back."

Jesse looked at May, but she just shrugged. He put on his coat and hat and met his father where directed.

"What's up, Dad?"

Looking slightly embarrassed, Jesse Sr. waved his son forward. "It's time we had a talk about… girls, Jess."

Neither father nor son could believe it was approaching midnight when they returned home. The only indication of time passing was the rising of the moon and the numbness growing in their extremities after so long in the near freezing mountain air. The father gave his son a pat on the shoulder and sent him off to bed. His face was difficult to read. _I wonder if he really understood all that_, Jesse Sr. thought.

Jesse Jr. _did_ understand most of it. In fact, he found aspects of the information imparted to him rather interesting. But the majority of it was foreign, weird, even revolting. _"All this because I'm kissing Leslie?"_ he asked himself quietly, sitting on his bed and listening to May breathing deeply as she slept.

But no, it was more than that, Jesse knew. His father had explained to him much of what he didn't understand, answering many of the questions about his confused feelings. Even identifying some of the feelings. _And, of course, Dad brought in religion and what it says I can and can't do, and when, and where, and with whom… I can't even imagine doing this stuff myself, let alone with Leslie!_

Jesse changed into his pajamas and climbed into his cold bed. Trying to sleep, he thought about him and Leslie laying next to each other. He thought it might be nice if she was there to warm the bed – and him. But that was one of the things both parents had told him would get him in trouble. Curious about why something as kind and comforting as warming a friend would be considered 'bad,' it was just one of the questions his father could not answer in a way he understood.

A little dejected, Jesse got up and walked to his window. In the winter, when the trees had shed their leaves, he could just make out the Burke's house and the solitary porch light they kept burning.

_Lesl__ie's there. Probably still awake, reading or looking over her part in the play, memorizing lines or songs._ He wondered if she was looking out her window, thinking of him. Jesse wished he had at least hugged her goodbye when Mr. Burke had dropped him off hours earlier; he wished he could do it now. Even the idea of giving her a kiss seemed more appealing than it had yesterday. He shook his head in silent confusion and got back into bed.

His dreams that night, however, were nightmare-ish, and reflected nothing of the affection he'd felt when thinking about his friend. He sunk down, deeper and deeper into sleep, having forgotten what it felt like to approach his troubled and troubling older self. By the time he did, it was too late.

"_Where have you been? What are you doing? Did you get anywhere with Brenda? Did you contact Hastings?"_ older Jesse asked anxiously.

"_No, stop it!"_ younger Jesse cried out. _"I've been… busy."_

"I _know_ what you've been busy with," said the older voice derisively. "You and Leslie! Didn't you remember to look up Hastings? He's the proof! And – and I have more names for you. You have to look them up… _Please!_"

Younger Jesse turned his mind away with his answer. "I'll get to it, just stop…"

"_NO! I won't stop…"_

Pushing back mentally, the younger mind wrestled itself away from the older one. The separation was unusually painful, and Jesse woke with a full-blown migraine. He tried calling to May for help but all that came out was a scream of agony. He fell to the floor into something wet and foul smelling – his own vomit. He heard a door open, a voice say something he couldn't understand, and then he knew no more.

Jesse awoke the next morning surprised to find himself still at home. He was laying on the family room sofa, bundled in blankets, a bucket next to the make-shift bed, and the most disgustingly foul taste in his mouth he could ever recall, matched only by the horrid stench that wafted up from his body. He then remembered the night before.

His father lay snoring on the chair Leslie liked so much, a glass of water and his bottle of migraine meds atop the television.

He looked at the clock and saw it was only five thirty. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, he went quietly up the stairs and took a long, hot shower to clean up the mess he'd made on himself.

* * *

The same evening Jesse and his father were talking, Bill Burke had a brief conversation with his daughter. He never told his wife about May's comment, but neither had he forgotten the incident. When Leslie saw her father close her bedroom door behind him as he entered, she knew it was serious. And she suspected it had to do with the incident in Jesse's room.

The father-daughter talk was gratifyingly short for the teen. Bill told his daughter much the same thing Jesse's parents had told their son: Only do together what you would do in front of others. Leslie said she understood, she apologized, bade her father goodnight, and promptly set about forgetting what she had just been told. She only shared her thoughts with one other…._person_.

**Saturday, January 3, 2009**

Dear diary,

Mom and Dad are loosing it! Consider this: Mom's pregnant again, and Dad's trying to teach me about appropriate behavior when he can't even follow his own advice – the new baby, _DUH!_ Jesse is finally breaking out of his shell. He kissed me. Well, I really kissed him, but he was about to kiss me too, I could tell! Laying on the bed with him was so nice, we might have to go back across the creek this summer and rebuild the tree house just for some privacy. So many ideas and so little time!

Oh, and I got the part in the play!

* * *

Dr. Barry Carlson was a Psychiatrist, and started work early Monday morning reviewing his appointments for the week, paying special attention to those that day. He made notes on a few of the folders and in his computer – he had not moved completely to electronic media – and then turned his full attention to his email and postal mail correspondence that had accumulated over the weekend. When he finished his early morning routine, Dr. Carlson left his office and walked the three blocks to the hospital where a number of his patients resided. Following that, and a taxi ride later, he saw his remaining patients at the area mental hospital.

Carlson was luckier than most in his profession. He was able to maintain a relatively light load of hospitalized and institutionalized patients so he could do what he liked best: Counseling and psycho-analysis, the one-on-one, patient-doctor direct communications. He looked forward to every session. He particularly enjoyed talking to one of his newer patients, a twelve year old boy named Jesse Aarons. Carlson found him engaging and affable, with only his night terrors, and an imaginary alter-ego of sorts, blemishing his childhood. They were to meet again Wednesday and talk about how his medications were working and the progress he was making with his LCSW.

The phone rang. It was one of Carlson's oldest and best friend, he was coming into town for a few days and wanted to get together for dinner. The Psychiatrist immediately accepted, and after a minute spent consulting their respective PDAs, agreed on a time and place. The friend, Dave Scoggins, was a few years his junior, but they had built a strong friendship in graduate school studying psychology and counseling. Carlson often regretted that Scoggins did not continue on to medical school with him to earn an M.D..

The following evening, the friends shook hands and embraced outside _Silverberg's_, one of the newer, upper class restaurants near the center of Roanoke and only a few blocks from where Jesse and Leslie had eaten lunch a week earlier. After being seated, the two men exchanged information about their families over cocktails and caught each other up on their mutual friends. In general, the first few minutes were an unhappy time as both men lamented their colleagues' divorces and deaths, both events statistically higher in their line of work than in the general population. But with the unpleasant news out of the way, and over the next two hours, Carlson and Scoggins were able to shed the negative aspects of their lives and share advances and theories in the far more interesting topic of human psychology.

Scoggins sat through dinner curious about one young patient his friend was treating, and whose name had arisen a few times in the course of the evening. He then went on to make a suggestion to his friend and colleague which Carlson promptly agreed to, with the family's permission, of course. Scoggins made the appointment in his PDA and turned back to more mundane topics with his friend, mostly centered on a 2009 red Mustang convertible he was thinking about buying.

**L**icensed **C**linical **S**ocial **W**orker, just one group in a class of care givers that offer counseling services.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	22. Part 3: The Players

**A Life Rescued**  
Chapter 22 – The Players  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Only three school days after the Christmas holidays were over and Leslie Burke knew it was going to be a long four months until the musical was finished. The show was set for May 7-10, but she fervently hoped the vocal and theatrical practices would ease up well before the first performance. But as the first weeks of 2009 went by, and her wish was not realized, she began to question her decision to take the part. The cast had had few practices and already she was feeling the pressure of over committing herself. Making matters worse, there was a palpable tension between most of the LCHS students who made up the older members of the cast, and the two middle school kids. (The youngest three children were loved by nearly everyone; Grace fell somewhere in between.)

When Janice Avery hung around, Leslie felt safe, and came to enjoy the girl's rough language and behavior. When she wasn't present, however, she had to watch out for any of a number of mean pranks and rude behavior from the older cast members. And Mr. Stamper, the drama director, was generally clueless in matters outside the realm of theatre.

A month into the rehearsals, Leslie sat in the Jacobs' car, between Tom and Grace, wishing Jesse was accompanying her to practice, if for no other reason than emotional support. But her best friend had his monthly meeting in Roanoke with his doctor after school that day, so she was on her own. Of course there was Grace, at present struggling with a math problem. Grace knew Leslie was good at the subject and the older girl suspected she did her homework near her with the express purpose of getting assistance when needed. This was a correct assumption. Every so often Leslie would point out a mistake, receiving a smile and "Thank you" from the girl in return.

Leslie liked Grace Jacobs. She was almost always happy, polite, kind, and active: She also had acting experience from her old school and gave Leslie some pointers. When she got excited over something, Grace would babble on and on, or, as she displayed at the auditions the first Saturday in January, ask an uninterrupted string of questions, one after the other, most of which were left unanswered. And although Leslie's middle school sent one other student to the high school play, it was Grace she hung around with the most. Or, perhaps, it was Grace that hung around _her_ the most.

One personality attribute Grace Jacobs did _not_ possess was shyness. A zealous extravert, the girl was fearless in her attitude and behavior towards others. At the first practice the previous month, Grace dragged Leslie around the music room where the entire cast had gathered, introducing them both to everyone else. Leslie found this more than a little embarrassing; she was of the opinion that acquaintances sprang up more by chance than active efforts. (Her friendship with Jesse being a curious exception.) But Grace was proving that theory wrong in general, too. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help her become accepted by the LCHS cast members who felt the two kids were interlopers in their territory. So the friends sat together whenever possible, one providing academic assistance; the other, moral support.

The role of Liesl von Trapp was played by an immensely talented and immensely stuck-up junior at LCHS by the name of Marcia Conway. At the first practice, where Grace had led Leslie around making introductions, Marcia made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with the "_Sevvies_," as the middle school seventh-graders were often known. (Or occasionally _"Skivvies"_ if the high schooler was particularly annoyed.) Determined to remain outwardly polite, Leslie gave her a saccharin smile and walked away, this time leading Grace. Liesl's theatrical counterpart was Rolfe, played by an equally talented student named Robin West. Robin was also Marcia's boyfriend, and the couple displayed their relationship in every way possible, usually to the disgust of the two seventh grade cast members.

As Robin and Marcia held one of only two scenes in the show where male and female characters kissed, they took liberties - when Mr. Stamper was off working with another part of the cast - and no other adults were about. These _liberties_ often degenerated into groping sessions that left many of their fellow high school actors and actresses cheering and wolf-whistling for more. Leslie found it repulsive and refused to acknowledge either after witnessing a particularly graphic display of "I Am Sixteen Going on Seventeen" being rehearsed backstage which left her nauseated. Believing she had not been noticed, Leslie froze when Marcia approached her a few minutes later, buttoning her ruffled blouse, and informing her, _"You can watch all you want, Burke, because that's all a scrawny little bitch like you will ever get."_ Too shocked to respond, and near tears, Leslie avoided Grace until she could compose herself, all the while wishing fervently Jesse was present.

Fortunately, these less-than-desirable sideshows became fewer and farther between as the year progressed, but they opened Leslie's eyes to high school social life, skewed as it was. They also served also to nearly extinguish the desire for deepening her physical relationship with Jesse, the extent of which, heretofore, was still limited to them kissing passionately – a nebulous concept Leslie suspected might involve something more than mashing their faces together. She knew… she _hoped_ that closer relationships between boys and girls didn't always become so… _revolting_.

The roles of the Captain and Maria were filled by Mark Wiley and Ginny Ward, two LCHS seniors whose personalities were the opposite of Conway's and West's. For Leslie, Mark, and to some extent Ginny, were her sole reason for making it through many of the practices. They were always smiling, helping with lines, and had Mr. Stamper's ear for suggestions. When Grace wasn't around, and Conway and West were, Leslie gravitated to the seniors for distraction and, consequently, learned a great deal more about acting from them.

Interestingly, what heights Mark exhibited in talent, he lacked in stature. As a result, he was perpetually avoiding standing next to his taller partner, which made for odd dynamics on the stage and near-apoplectic outbursts from Mr. Stamper. A couple weeks into the practices, Leslie off-handedly told Mark how the real-life Captain von Trapp was quite a bit shorter than his wife; this seemed to help the young man measurably. It also gave Leslie another sorely needed friend among the high schoolers.

Ginny Ward, while polite to everyone, was far more interested in the social life, college applications, and schoolwork – in that order – than spending time with the younger cast members. Leslie did not begrudge her this; overall she was still a friendly and very tolerable girl who would help you if asked.

The roles of the Abby nuns, the von Trapp housekeeper, butler, friends, and a dozen other minor roles were all held by, in Leslie's and Grace's opinion, the scum of LCHS. Both openly questioned how they could have made the parts they earned. The only ones who seemed to fit in were the six boys who played the Nazi soldier. Most could not hold a tune in a basket, few had experience on the stage, and all were hideous to Leslie and Evan Taylor, the other seventh grader.

Leslie and Evan knew each other from their advanced English class. Leslie found the boy pleasant but in serious need of basic lessons in personal hygiene. Evan, like many other boys in middle school, thought earning Leslie's good opinion an insurmountable goal. And he also found her, "Too pretty to be as unpopular as she is." Evan knew of her friendship with Jesse Aarons, as well as the rumors that waxed and waned about their level of physical intimacy. As a result, he watched the only other seventh-grader with a slightly covetous interest, figuring her behavior towards him had more to do with disinterest than his habit of brushing his teeth only once a week and wearing the same unlaundered t-shirt three days in a row. But they still developed a polite friendship that would have a minor role in future events.

Apart from Grace, the other younger children, Megan Hammerstein, Alison Grey, and James Worthy, were almost constantly under the supervision of one of the parents. The only time they were separated was when practicing on the stage. Leslie told Grace she thought this was because the parents knew the true personalities of much of the older cast. Grace agreed. Megan, Alison, and James, ages five, seven and ten respectively, were delightful children and the two youngest were inseparable. James hung out with them, but was clearly more interested in being around Grace, Evan, and Leslie, though he seldom realized his wish.

The weekday afternoon practices were broken into two parts. The first hour was devoted to singing, the second to dialog and acting. Leslie found the first part the easiest and most enjoyable. Music and singing came naturally to her, (though she refused to practice enough to become proficient on the violin.) The dialog was not difficult, either, as Louisa's part had few solo lines. But the acting was _very_ different than she imagined it would be. She found herself unaccustomed to the lights and exposure of the stage. She would run instead of walk, and was often out of step with her 'stage family.' But the director was eminently patient with her and others not familiar with acting, and this bolstered her spirits.

- - - - - - - - - - -

An hour away, also on the first Wednesday of 2009, and sitting in the office of Dr. Carlson, Jesse Aarons and his mother listened to the doctor and his colleague, Dave Scoggins, as they were presented with another therapy option: Hypnosis, or Hypnotherapy. Scoggins made certain Jesse and his mother were fully informed about the proposed procedure: He gave them a lengthy history of hypnosis and how frauds had nearly ruined the practice. "To almost everyone, hypnosis was magic. To others it was a set-up – and certainly there was _some_ of that…" Scoggins admitted.

Mary Aarons was unconvinced, but Jesse was willing to try anything. He eventually won his mother's consent and they retired to another room.

Scoggins first explained the system used to rate the ability of a person to be hypnotized; it was called the Spiegel Scale, and broke patients into three categories. The third category of patients, called Dionysians, were the most easy to put-under and Jesse fell into this category, scoring a 4.5 out of 5.0 on the quick test. After a few final questions, Mrs. Aarons sat quietly in a darkened corner to observe.

The session lasted about a half-hour and dealt with subjects Dr. Carlson had already covered with Jesse. This established a baseline of confidence for both men to work from, and more importantly, convinced Carlson of the validity of the procedure. It was something he had had very little experience with since medical school many years earlier. Mary Aarons was asked to come closer at the end of the session so she would feel more comfortable about what was happening. Her most significant concern was that Jesse might do something against his will. Scoggins gave a few demonstrations showing how this would be impossible, and pointed out that Virginia law demanded all hypnotherapy sessions be recorded to protect both the patient and therapist. With this information, Mary Aarons was won over and agreed to the use of the procedure on her son.

Jesse was brought out of his trance and spoke with Carlson and Scoggins for a few minutes before leaving. After the mother and son were escorted out, the doctor returned to his office to discuss the next steps with his friend.

"He seemed like he would respond well. Is that your opinion?" asked Carlson.

"I think so. Did you watch his body language?"

"No," Carlson answered, peeved at not noticing such an important part of therapy. "I was concentrating on my notes. What did you see?"

Scoggins handed his friend the tape of the session. "Watch."

Carlson queued-up the tape to the point where Jesse was being asked questions. Examining the patient with his full attention, it was easy to see what the hypnotist was talking about.

"This, here?" Carlson pointed to the screen. "It's subtle, but he's clearly uncomfortable with some of the questions I asked….almost as if he's lying."

"But he's not."

"No, he isn't."

Dr. Carlson turned the tape off and sat, unconsciously scratching his beard. "What do you suggest?"

"Jerry, it may be nothing at all, then again…." Scoggins shrugged. "I can give you the name of a local hypnotherapist, if you want to pursue this avenue of treatment."

"Let me think about it, Dave. Jesse has some issues with migraines and I'm not sure long-term hypnotic sessions would be best."

"What meds is he taking?"

"Alavar, as needed for the migraines."

"No maintenance?"

"...Not yet…" he hesitated and Scoggins noticed.

"You suspect something else?"

The doctor nodded slowly, as if he were reluctant to tell a guarded secret. "He had an abnormal brain wave scan last year after a very bad…" Carlson looked more upset than an impartial therapist should. "….psychotic episode."

"_Jesus Christ, Jerry! Why didn't you tell me this?!_" snapped Scoggins, instantly furious.

"It was only one, Dave," the doctor said hastily. "Nasty, but only one. I didn't want him tripping out on Haldol at age twelve."

"Ok, ok, you're right; sorry. What's this about a scan?"

"His Theta and Gamma waves were synchronized in the upper quarter."

"Interesting." Scoggins sat back, clearly surprised and shot out three rapid questions. "Do you have the report? Can you send me a copy? Any follow-up?"

"Yes, yes, and yes, but no change."

"Has he shown any unusual behavior or talents?"

The doctor nodded. "Art. More specifically, drawing."

The hypnotist's face fell. "That _sucks_."

Carlson uttered a rather gloomy laugh. "Very professional diagnosis, Dave."

His friend ignored the comment. "Does he know?"

"Not yet. No point, really, is there?

"I guess not. So, what do you want to do about young Mr. Aarons?"

"Give me the name, Dave, I'll call him."

Scoggins pulled his PDA out and scribbled down the name and number. "_He's_ a _her_. Oh, and who's this Lisa girl Jesse was talking about so much?"

"She's like a girlfriend, at least that's how he sees her. And her name is Leslie."

"A little young to be having a girlfriend, isn't he?"

"It's a long story. He saved her life a couple years ago and they became very close. I don't think it's gone much past holding hands." _Damn! I was supposed to talk about that with him today..._

Scoggins nodded and made another note. "Well, Jerry, I'm outta here. Come see me when you buy that new 'Stang, ok?"

"You know it. Thanks for the consult."

Scoggins laughed. "Is that what this was? In that case I'll send you a bill!"

This time both men laughed. Scoggins shook his friend's hand, embraced him, and headed back to Raleigh.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The first weeks of winter passed by in a flurry of activity in Lark Creek and the surrounding areas. Leslie's time was consumed by the musical, Jesse's by the final drafts of the new illustrations for Bill Burke's book, his counseling, and the assistance he promised Janice Avery with the show's scenery.

He had also been recruited by his father, without an option to decline, to restart the old snow plowing business. Jesse's father explained the need for the money, and the boy agreed, albeit half-heartedly. It was just another thing taking up the already sparse time he had with Leslie. And a snowy January and early February kept them busy until the truck broke down. The repairs ate up half the money they'd made, but few non-industrial strength pickups can withstand the rigors of plowing without periodic repairs.

By the time the snows ended at the beginning of March, _Aarons & Son Snow Plowing Service_ had brought in enough extra cash to pay Brenda's tutors for the remainder of the year. They had even been able to hire Tom Jacobs, once a week, to deliver fliers with Jesse for the plowing business. As they worked together, Jesse looked back almost two years and recalled the initial jealousy he bore toward his friend. He had never told Tom about this, and even Leslie only _suspected_ how deeply it had once run. As for himself, he buried his guilt away hoping it would eventually disappear.

In early February, Jesse had his first official session with the hypnotherapist, Cheryl Woodley, and his Psychiatrist, Dr. Carlson. Again his mother was present, but unlike the first time she was not allowed to be in the room during the session. She could only observe through a two-way mirror and hear through an intercom system.

The first half of the session went smoothly. Jesse showed none of the reluctant body language he had displayed the previous month as Carlson asked about the mundane aspects of his life.

Then everything changed.

Jesse remained unresponsive for almost two minutes when Dr. Carlson asked about the, "Other, older Jesse." When he finally did respond, it was clear that he was in some discomfort. He babbled, and the only word they could understand was, "Rain," or possibly, though less likely, "Reign."

Dr. Carlson immediately switched back to questions about everyday life, and Jesse's movements and responses returned to normal. When he looked at the hypnotist, she shook her head, indicating he should not pursue that line of questioning, at least not at that moment. Sighing in frustration, Carlson scribbled out some notes and then proceeded to ask Jesse about his friend, Leslie.

Mary Aarons, who had been startled by her son's unusual behavior and response a few minutes before, was calmed by his now composed conversation with the psychiatrist. Looking at him, Mary realized, he appeared completely at ease, and not at all hypnotized. Their interaction remained like this for the balance of the session, until Carlson made a reference to Jesse saving his friend's life. The boy again froze, and after a minute repeated the same word he had uttered at the previous interruption: "Rain." With this, the hypnotist ended the session by easing Jesse back into consciousness where he immediately asked, "Did I do ok?"

After the Aarons departed, Carlson began an in-depth review of his notes, fleshing out details where he had written only short, cryptic phrases during the session. He now knew of two specific areas in Jesse Aarons' life that needed further exploration: The 'other Jesse,' which he had already known about, and why saving his friend's life evoked a similar response. Cheryl Woodley, the licensed therapist who was performing the hypnosis session, promised her evaluation by email the following day, but the look she gave Carlson sent a chill up his back. She, too, had seen the signs. It was only a matter of time before the details and extent were uncovered.

That night, pleading the need to be alone, Carlson left his wife and family home and did something he hadn't done for many years: Called a cab and went out to get drunk.

Jesse's experience that same night, however, was very different than his doctor's. Had he known in advance what would happen he might have remained awake until the following day.

He felt himself being dragged into the mind of the 'other, elder Jesse,' and no amount of struggling could break him free. He finally resolved to save his energy and put up with the chaotic and disorienting plunge into a different mind – a different world, really – hoping to escape when less expected. At the bottom of the long escalator waited the elder Jesse, and although he could not be seen in the true sense of the word, Jesse could tell there was something different about him. The feelings his senses reported were that of anger and betrayal. The elder Jesse, at the moment both were fully present, took hold of his younger self and mentally dragged him through the events of his life, as always, beginning with Leslie drowning, her memorial service, Bill and Judy Burke's decision to move away, Brenda's death, and his father's death. The older Jesse focusing on the tragedies to the point where his younger self could feel his own scrambled emotions merging with the shredded mind of the elder's.

Far more horrific than ever before, the nightmare went on and on, and nothing Jesse did could break himself out of the grasp of his, apparently, deranged double. When they at last stopped, and he found himself 'sitting' on a park bench recovering, the elder Jesse finally spoke to him.

"_What are you trying to do?" _he screamed violently_. "_Send me to an eternity of reliving Leslie's death? Keep me trapped in here forever."

"What are you talking about?"

The elder Jesse scoffed at his question. "You're letting that person into your mind! The hypnotist. If they find me, do you know what will happen to you? A mental hospital. Jess, I've told you this before: _YOU_ have to help me….escape; I _can't_ stay here forever. Look, I have another person you can contact to prove I'm real. About a year after Leslie died I met this guy who told me how to break into Dad's liquor cabinet. Go ask him! He'll know how to do it."

_This is insane!_ Jesse was becoming more annoyed than concerned about this entire series of dreams, encounters, whatever they were. He had spent time in December looking up some of the names the elder Jesse had provided, but lost interest in it when the dreams stopped. Now they were back, making more demands and less sense. He could think of only one solution.

"Ok, give me the name of this guy, I'll look him up."

"Jesse," the elder one warned, "_don't_ brush this off. Look him up."

"Yeah. What's the name?"

"Ricky Manning."

Younger Jesse paused. "I think I can remember that."

A few weeks later at his March session with Dr. Carlson and the hypnotist, Jesse explained about the last dream he'd had. He also told them about Rick Manning, feeling sillier by the second. "I know this kid, he was almost expelled for something a few weeks back. But it wasn't alcohol related….exactly." Jesse went on to explain how Hoager got in trouble for bringing the whiskey to school and tried to point the finger at Manning.

"Jess," said Carlson somewhat forcefully, "it's like I've told you. There is _nothing_ these dreams are telling you that you don't already know. Did you ever look up that English fellow? What was his name…Edwards?"

Jesse shook his head. "Edmond Hastings."

"Right. Did you find anything?"

"Um…Not yet."

"Haven't really looked, have you?" Carlson guessed shrewdly.

"No, sir," admitted Jesse.

"I think you should. The sooner you know for certain this dream _is_ a dream, the sooner you'll be free of the nightmares."

"But what about all this stuff he told me about wanting to die and me having to help him?"

Carlson shot a quick glance at the hypnotist; her face was passive, unchanged. _Good girl!_ "Jess, last month we tried to ask you, under hypnosis, about this… other Jesse, your older… self. You froze-up, wouldn't say anything except 'Rain.' Do you know why that happened?" Carlson had leaned forward to show Jesse he was eager to know the answer.

"He – he said if you found him, I'd be sent to a mental hospital." Jesse didn't realize how upset he was becoming, but his eyes were tearing up.

"Why would we do that, Jesse?"

"_I'm not crazy, Dr. Carlson!"_ shouted Jesse, finally braking down. Woodley handed him a tissue.

"I don't believe you are, either," insisted Carlson, though somewhat guiltily. "But we need to find out why this…person is telling you these things. And we need to stop it. Do you understand?"

Still sobbing, Jesse nodded.

Carlson turned around and glanced at the two-way mirror. He knew Mary Aarons was watching and listening. He hoped the gesture would reassure her. The fact that Jesse was crying and freely showing his emotions was encouraging. In a few weeks he would be thirteen, and coming to an age where holding things in emotionally was a strain no one needed, but most adolescent males, being adolescent males, did anyway.

"Jess, what we would like to do today is a brief session with Mrs. Woodley. She'll hypnotize you and I'm going to ask you about the 'older Jesse,' ok?" He nodded freely, but there was a worried look on his face. "We aren't going to push anything, Jess. And no one's going to any hospital, I promise." He caught a peripheral view of Woodley rolling her eyes.

"Ok," said Jesse, "let's get it over with."

Twenty minutes later they were finished. Jesse asked what they had found but neither Carlson nor Woodley offered anything other than vague comments such as, "Oh, this and that." Further questioning proved futile.

Carlson and Woodley spoke for a few minutes after the Aarons' departed, sharing thoughts and ideas. Both left the office shortly thereafter and returned to their respective homes. Both felt emotionally drained.

Driving home, Jesse was surprised to learn that Dr. Carlson had turned the intercom off for ten minutes so his mother missed about half the session. She tried to reassure her son: "Dr. Carlson appeared to just be talking with you." She also explained how the consent forms allowed for brief periods such as those, where the guardian would not be able to hear the conversation, ostensibly to protect the rights of the minor. The video recording, with its own separate sound, would be kept in case it was ever needed.

As the journey ended, Jesse asked that he be dropped off at the Burke's house so he could talk to Leslie, but his mother reminded him she was still at LCHS. Sighing, he repeated the request, this time so he could walk home; his mother acquiesced. But instead of going directly home, Jesse wandered down the path next to the creek. He was shaken, emotionally, and more frightened than he could ever remember. Or at least as much as he was when Leslie nearly died. On one hand he had a future version of himself who insisted he was alive and needed to be set free. On the other he had an experienced psychiatrist insisting that the dreams, though seemingly real to Jesse, were in no way possible.

Without realizing it, he stopped at the spot by the creek where the rope used to hang. It was no longer the frightening location it had been, and Jesse peered over the steep embankment down into the trickling water. The creek was almost dry. It was a time of the year when the snow and ice from the winter were still frozen and spring rains had not yet started. In the fading light, Jesse looked into the water and saw something he'd never noticed before. About three-quarters of the way across the creek bed, exposed now by the low water, was a stone, not terribly large, but firmly embedded in the mud and clay. One edge of it stuck up, running perpendicular to the bank. It looked razor sharp.

He climbed – slipped actually – down the embankment. That was it! That was the rock that nearly killed Leslie. Its edge looked like it was sharpened daily, but of course that was impossible. Jesse balanced on one large flat stone, and then stepped to another. He put his finger on the rock to see how sharp it was and immediately regretted his action. When his hand came back the index finger had a two inch gash, not deep, but clearly caused by the rock.

Infuriated at his own stupidity, and what the rock had nearly done to his best friend, Jesse picked up the largest stone he could find in the shallow water, lifted it high above his head, and brought it smashing down on the edge of the killer rock. There was a loud crack, and he saw shards of rock splintering off. But he also felt a stabbing pain in his left palm, and could no longer hold the stone. When he looked at his injured hand, he saw a flap of skin at the base of his thumb hanging down, nearly severed. In his attempt to dull the sharp end of the stone, one of the flying razor-sharp chunks of debris had extracted its own revenge.

Freezing in the icy water, Jesse looked at the rock and saw it had lost its deadly edge. He waded, feet stinging painfully with the cold, down the creek a few yards and climbed up, _probably the same place I pulled Leslie out of the creek two years before_. Muddy, cold, his feet and hands numb, Jesse jogged home to tend to his wounds.

His mother was in the middle of fixing dinner and told Ellie to help her brother upon seeing Jesse's hand. His eldest sister pointed to the bathroom and he sat on the stool as Ellie made faces and told him he would be lucky if he didn't need stitches. He said nothing until she finished, then he thanked her and went to wash up.

- - - - - - - - - - -

On the way to school the following day, Jesse told Leslie about his last session, being hypnotized, and Dr. Carlson's firm belief that he had made this elder Jesse up in his head. He hid his badly cut hand by holding it in his jacket, and looked a bit like a young Napoleon.

"Are you certain he meant it that way, Jess?" asked Leslie softly. "We can't control our dreams, maybe you misunderstood him."

"Yeah, maybe," he admitted, though his voice remained doubtful. "How's the play going? You're half-way there."

"Oh, it's fine. I'm tired of singing 'Doe, Ray, Me' and 'Favorite Things,' but the acting is fun. I can't wait until it's over."

"Huh? Why's that?"

Leslie smiled warmly at him. "Why do you think? I've hardly seen you the past two months."

She made a move to take Jesse's hand but saw it was tucked into his coat.

"Cold?"

"Um, no… I cut it yesterday."

"Badly?" she asked, trying to remove it gently from the coat.

"Nah… well, a little." He pulled out the injured hand and saw that blood was seeping through the wrapping. "See? No football for me today."

"Are you changing the dressing twice a day?"

"Yes, _mother_, and I brushed my hair this morning, too," Jesse whined playfully. Just hours before, he wished Leslie had been with him at the creek. They had seen almost nothing of each other for weeks and he was feeling particularly isolated.

Leslie cautiously wrapped her own hand around his as the bus bounced onward to school.

Towards the end of March, Jesse made time to look into some of the claims the 'older Jesse' in his dreams had set forth. He had put it off as long as he could, but did not want to appear empty-handed at his mid-April meeting with Dr. Carlson. With the notes he had made months before he performed dozens of searches by name, job description, university, and any other way he could think of. When finished, he summarized the findings and had them prepared for the psychiatrist. Reflecting on the results, he found he was both happy and concerned. But the research showed definitive answer to his questions.

As he was perusing the national news later that evening, he came across an article about the man who was responsible for procuring the plutonium used in the D.C. bombing. Recalling the story his 'older Jesse' had told him about how Mr. Burke was directly related to uncovering this man, Jesse looked around until he found the specifics he was looking for. After verifying some of his suspicions, he visited the official investigation web site and discovered further details confirming his earlier findings. He again made references to this in his notes.

Lastly was Brenda's rehabilitation, which appeared to be proceeding, though outwardly she was largely unchanged. She _was_ hitting the books harder, that was one of the few signs of her progress, and Jesse had managed to sneak into her room every few weeks and found no evidence of illegal drug paraphernalia under her dresser drawers, or anywhere else, for that matter. But the images of her laying dead in bed still haunted him at night, even through the dreams uninfluenced by his doppelganger.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: Thank you for all the comments you have left me. Sometimes they are the only thing that keeps me going!_

_I split this chapter because it was becoming far too large, so you shouldn't have to wait too long for chapter 23._

_About the hypnotherapy: I did some preliminary research before using it as part of the story, but I am by no means an expert. If you notice anything particularly wrong, please drop me a note. Thanks._

_I've had a few private emails asking about the deepening of Jesse and Leslie's relationship (or rather, the lack thereof.) To all I answer: In time. I have the fortune of living with a boy about Jesse's age so I can model some of the fictional character's progress on my son's. But not all. Chapter 23 does begin to delve into some of the more 'physical' aspects of LB's & JA's relationship, but not too much: They are only 13; please remember that. Passion and arousal are still pretty foreign to them, although you have probably noticed how they see glimpses of their sexuality emerging from time to time._

_Finally, the other most common question I receive is how long I will continue the story. Certainly through their 8__th__ grade year, and probably ninth grade, too._

_IHateSnakes_


	23. Part 3: The Truth

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 23 – The Truth**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Jesse was no longer counting the days until summer vacation began, he was counting down to May tenth, the date of the last performance of _The Sound of Music_ at Lark Creek High School, the last day he had to be separated from his best friend. In the weeks since the New Year started, both had become so involved with one activity or another they found it difficult to have any quality time together. The simmering emptiness both felt each day, after their final class and forced separation would be gone, and they wouldn't have to rely only on the bus ride to school, or an hour on Sundays at church, to be with each other.

Neither had realized how wonderful, and how _distracting_, loving someone – _being in love_ _with someone_ - could be. Unlike the previous year, when they were always together, and growing together, the winter and spring of 2009 had become a rollercoaster of emotional extremes brought about by the seemingly never ending partings.

Although neither Jesse nor Leslie understood it as such, their moods were largely a byproduct of adolescent hormones and being in love; not always the two most comfortable or compatible companions at work inside a person.

For Jesse, it was mood swings and temper flares which had begun to annoy his family. By the end of March his father felt he had to step in and give his son an attitude adjustment. It wasn't a pretty scene, but after a couple days, even Jesse himself had to admit his father's actions were justified.

Once, at dinner, Leslie voiced a desire to drop out of the play: It was the wrong thing to say. Her parents made sure she understood the importance of being reliable and keeping commitments. She grudgingly admitted acceptance, but it didn't help her mood, especially when Jesse's counseling and hypnosis sessions got rough and she could tell he needed to get away with her to talk, or just be alone together.

Leslie, too, was enduring her own private slice of misery every day at the high school. Only the occasional visit by Jesse to help Janice Avery with a piece of scenery brightened the weekdays. Grace's presence was helpful, but the sixth-grader could do nothing about the subtle sleazy looks and rude gestures she endured from the most aggravating older kids.

At practice on the first of April, Leslie was petrified to hear Mr. Stamper assign her as stand-in for Marcia Conway at a rehearsal of Liesl's and Rolf's number, _Sixteen Going On Seventeen_. The stuck-up junior needed to make up an exam, the director had informed her. Leslie wasn't worried about the part, she knew the song, and had the dance steps down tolerably well. It was the very end on the scene that was causing her stomach to turn over, when Rolf kisses Liesl. Robin West had been giving her lecherous looks the past few days, and images of the creepy eleventh-grader doing something more than planting a brief chaste kiss on her lips made her nauseous.

With no time to find Ginny Ward and ask her to do the scene, (she was the only other person who knew the part well,) Leslie walked up to the stage, fearful and nervous. West was already there, acting completely normal in front of Mr. Stamper. Seeing how distracted Leslie was made West smile. He spoke a few quiet encouraging words, but in a derisive and condescending tone, and ended by warning Leslie not to screw it up too much and make him look bad. (His exact words were far less polite.)

The scene progressed well, and the concentration Leslie needed for dancing was enough of a distraction that she did not dwell on her swinish partner. But as they approached the final part of the scene, Leslie spotted Marcia Conway backstage making rude gestures. It was obvious at that point, Leslie realized, that she had been set-up, but she continued to play the part as assigned. When she and West met to kiss at the end of the scene, Leslie leaned forward, closed her eyes in disgust, and puckered-up her lips. But nothing happened. She opened her eyes and saw that West had leaned back, sneering slightly; then he said, "April Fools," and walked away.

Having expected far worse, Leslie was actually relieved. Mr. Stamper scolded West, and then saw Marcia Conway backstage and went off with the two for a couple minutes. Leslie and Grace watched together as they returned, both older students smirking pompously. It was obvious Stamper could do little to them: If they quit the show, it would fail. Disgusted, the two girls went to the back of the auditorium until they were needed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jesse's thirteenth birthday fell on the second Saturday of April in 2009, just as spring was making itself felt in the valley. Jesse insisted that he wanted nothing to do with parties, and that he would much rather spend a day with Leslie. Unfortunately, his best friend was going to be at the high school much of the day for practice, and the spring track club was holding tryouts, and Jesse had a short meeting with Mr. Burke to present his final sketches for the book. By the time activities of the day were complete, Jesse felt like not doing much other than sitting around.

His mother, however, would hear none of it. She told her son, "You only become a teenager once," and set about making plans, most of them covert, for the evening. (The entire family wondered how she could be so energetic with a baby due in four weeks.)

Apparently in the know about the evening activities, Leslie showed up at the Aarons' house at five, carrying a gift and smiling apologetically at Jesse, who barely had time to welcome her before Mrs. Aarons ushered both out the door and into the car. It was obvious from the moment his mother had pushed them out what was going on, though he might have been a little more surprised if his mother hadn't insisted he shower and "Get a little dressed up," an hour earlier. And if it was going to be just him and Leslie, she would have been happier, he reasoned.

Jesse groaned as he climbed into the station wagon, sore from the tryouts that morning, but otherwise content to sit next to Leslie for however short a time there was. Just minutes later their car pulled up in front of a modest colonial with a toll-art sign next to the front door stating:

Jacobs Home  
Est. 1988.

Before they reached the doorbell, Mrs. Jacobs opened the door and proclaimed salutations and happy birthday wishes - effusively.

Jesse felt like hiding behind Leslie. He knew little about Mrs. Jacobs, neither Tom nor Grace spoke of her unless pressed, but he understood she was one of the types of people who believed anything worth doing was worth overdoing. And he was certain this applied to birthday parties, too. As soon as he and Leslie entered the house, Tom and Grace appeared, both looking more than slightly disgruntled: Tom due to a dress shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck, and Grace, wearing a knee-length skirt and a loose flowery top she clearly loathed; the colors made her look pale and a bit sickly.

Mrs. Jacobs beamed, again proclaiming, "Happy birthday, Jesse! Thirteen! I can't believe it!"

Leslie almost laughed aloud; she could clearly see Tom mouthing silently: _Lord, woman, try…_

"How has your special day been so far?"

"Oh, well, kind of.…"

As if Jesse hadn't said a word, Mrs. Aarons cut across his response and began speaking again. "Well then, you'll be wanting something… oh my! Me and my MANNERS! Tommy, Grace, do you know this pretty young lady-friend of Jess's? Lindsey is it?"

"Er – yes Mom. You know her too: _Leslie_ Burke… Remember? The beach two years ago. She's in the show with Grace." When his mother moved closer to Leslie, appearing to be examining her, Tom turned to his sister and rolled his eyes. Grace had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing aloud.

Mrs. Jacobs continued without missing a beat. "Goodness! You're that TINY little thing from the beach? I DECLARE, children are changing so much at this age, I hardly RECOGNIZE Grace every morning when she comes down to breakfast. She's just POPPING out of her clothing."

With the attention now shifted to the unfortunate twelve year old, Jesse craned his neck over Mrs. Jacobs' shoulder – she was a tall woman – and began making faces at the girl. Grace kept her composure, mostly, though she was turning bright red in the face. Leslie saw this, too, and pushed Jesse so that he tripped over the protruding leg of an armchair and fell ungracefully onto the sofa.

"GOODNESS! Jesse, are you alright? Thomas Jacobs, help your friend up this INSTANT…"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Jacobs, really."

Now desperate to be rid of Tom's and Grace's 1950-ish Pleasantville mother, if only for a few seconds to catch his breath, Jesse asked for a drink. Based on the looks the brother and sister gave him, this was the _worst_ possible thing for him to say. Mrs. Jacobs scurried off to the kitchen, her hands raised so she appeared as a moving football goal, and muttering "Drinks, of COURSE…"

Grace, the moment her mother disappeared, stepped over to Leslie, and taking her hand dragged her to some heretofore unnoticed stairs leading down. A few seconds later, during which Tom spent punching Jesse's arm, only half-playfully, Mrs. Jacobs returned with an old metal serving tray holding four tall, thin glasses. They were the type of glasses adults use; in the hands of someone under the age of twenty-one they had very brief life-spans. Each was filled with a brownish-pink liquid.

"Here you are, Jess, Tommy. Now WHERE did Grace and Laura run off to? Oh, never MIND. Drink up, drink up!" She handed both boys a glass and returned to the kitchen, sans goalposts.

Before Jesse could take a drink, Tom shook his head wildly, with a look of exaggerated horror, and motioned for Jesse to follow. He walked to the half-bath around the corner and gestured for his guest to dump the drink in the sink, as he himself was doing.

"Puke City, Jess, believe me. I think it's prune juice and lemonade."

Trusting his friend's judgment, he immediately did as was told.

"Oh booooys! Where ARE you?" Mrs. Jacobs called out.

"Down here, Mom. I'm showing Jesse my room."

"Alright, Tommy. I'll let you know when the others arrive."

"Thanks, Mom."

"'Others'?" asked Jesse warily.

"Uh, yeah, that was supposed to be a surprise. As you can imagine, there aren't many secrets with my mother around." Tom rolled his eyes again. "Wanna see my room?" Without waiting for an answer, Tom led Jesse back through the living room, deftly avoiding being noticed from the kitchen, and up the stairs to the second floor.

"I thought you just told your mother…" Jesse started to say, pointing back down the stairs.

"Yeah, it's sort of a standard excuse. You can pretty much be anywhere in the house and tell Mom you're in your room. Pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

Jesse avoided answering the question, and was too embarrassed to ask why the woman was so flakey. He did not recall her acting this way at the church picnic the previous summer.

At the top of the stairs, the hallway went left and right. "Grace's room is down there," said Tom, thumbing to the right. "Here's mine." He pushed open a door and they walked into the cleanest room Jesse had ever seen. Seeing his face, Tom chuckled, "I guess some of Mom has rubbed off on me."

"This is gross. Guys shouldn't be this clean," noted Jesse, clearly worried his mother might somehow hear of Tom's room and force Jesse to similarly high standards of neatness. It might turn into another one of her compulsive nightmares, like the daily _lists_ from long ago.

Tom laughed again and then opened a couple of his dresser drawers. It was a mess inside the first: Mismatched socks, underwear and slacks bunched together. The drawer had too many things in it and couldn't be opened completely; the other one had almost nothing.

"See, it's only skin-deep," he chuckled proudly.

The funny thing was, Jesse realized, Tom Jacobs wasn't this clean or organized anywhere else. His desk at school was a mess. His locker was a disaster zone. The few times they met at church for the monthly pancake breakfast you'd think he had few or no table manner; lunches at school were the same. In some ways it looked as if his life resembled his room: Neat on the surface, but rather disorganized when you get down to the details.

After a couple minutes, Mrs. Jacobs called up the stairs to the boys, excitedly, that, "The OTHERS are here." Again, Jesse asked Tom who the others were, but his only response was a cautious and apologetic smile.

_So much for a quiet birthday with Leslie…_

The boys returned to the front hallway to find Leslie and Grace already greeting a small herd of newcomers. Predictably, Mikey Sellers was there, with, just as predictably, his mismatched clothes that seemed to greatly confuse Mrs. Jacobs. (Jesse wondered if she might have a seizure of some sort from examining his color-blind friend's outfit.) Behind Mikey was Evan Taylor, who Jesse had come to know through Leslie and his role in the musical. Jesse suspected she had invited the boy in the hope he would drop some subtle hygiene tips to him. Jesse kept his distance, but waved politely, and with more enthusiasm than he honestly felt.

When Jesse saw the last two guests he had to struggle to hide his alarm. It was Lisa and Carol Silliard, twins from his home room who had started hanging around him and Leslie at lunch earlier in the year. They were nice enough, in an annoying way. More gigglier than Jesse liked, and more obsequious than thirteen year old girls should be. They gave Jesse the impression of groupies, though he wasn't sure if they acted like that to everyone or just him – due to his growing reputation as an artist - or Leslie – as the daughter of a famous author. Their one significant redeeming factor, Jesse figured, was that they still had much of their Irish brogue, having moved to the area only five years before, straight from Dublin.

Carol, by far the more outgoing of the two, ran in and embraced Jesse, kissing his cheek, and whispering happy birthday breathily into his ear. He shivered. The entire greeting left him feeling odd, though he wasn't sure why. He also wondered what his face looked like because he saw Leslie and Grace watching him and laughing hysterically. Fortunately, Lisa, the shier of the two, only smiled and waved, and was plainly more sensitive to Jesse's personal space, giving him a friendly pat on the back as she handed him his birthday gift.

Suspecting these last two guests were a result of suggestions made by Tom, Jesse turned and mouthed "Why?" to the boy, but his response was to point at his sister. Grace, guilty, and already expecting Jesse to discover her, had ducked into the kitchen where she was in the process of 'accidentally' dumping out the large decanter of prune juice-laced lemonade. Jesse gained immeasurably respect for her acting abilities when he heard her explain to Mrs. Jacobs what had happened, and then suggest they use, "The old sodas sitting in the basement." Jesse happily forgave the girl for the twin's invitation.

The kids then retreated to the basement where they were met with, _Happy 13__th__ Birthday_ _Jesse!_ in huge letters hanging on the wall. Balloons also decorated the large open space. Trying to maintain a polite façade, Jesse asked Tom who had gone through all the trouble. Again he pointed to his sister. This time she didn't run off, but blushed and looked suddenly shy.

"I think she likes you," Tom whispered furtively as Jesse passed, causing him to trip on the last step.

The truth was, Jesse had suspected this since Christmas. He had hoped his friend's sister, however, would have given it up by now. Just then, Leslie took his hand and led him to one of the couches; Jesse quickly forgot about Tom's comment.

The basement arrangement was perfect for a party such as this. The room was square with a wrap-around couch on two of the sides, and a large coffee table for games, cards, or whatever; and there was sufficient room in front of the opposite walls for everything from ping pong to pillow fights. But for the first few minutes, the eight adolescents (or near adolescents) sat a bit uncomfortably, making small talk and trying to pry from Tom and Grace why their mother was so odd, while not being too rude or persistent with their questions.

Finally having had enough of the exchanges, Grace stood and walked across the room, calling the other three girls to join. When they were together, the twins asked what she was doing. "Nothing," said the girl, though her impish smile implied otherwise. "Just kidding. Here's what we _are_ going to do. Huddle up." She extended her arms around Leslie and Carol; the others did likewise with their neighbor, forming a circle. "First we're going to make the boys squirm: Watch and learn."

Leslie instantly realized she was in the presence of a pro. Grace popped her head up, looked towards the boys, giggled loudly, and then ducked back into the scrum.

"You next, Les." Grace prodded the reluctant girl. "Come on, it'll look stupid if we all don't do it."

Leslie performed as directed, feeling stupid anyway. She too popped her head up, catching Jesse's eyes for a fraction of a second, giggled as best she could under the circumstances, and then looked back down. Lisa was about to go next, but Grace stopped her.

"Wait a few seconds. Everyone talk quietly, like we're talking about them….ok, Lisa, now."

The first twin did as directed and returned.

"Are they doing anything?" asked Leslie, very curious about the reactions they were trying to evoke.

Grace looked up for a second. "They're sweating, but not squirming...yet."

This brought forth another round of silly giggling, unforced this time.

Lisa went next but produced a grossly fake sounding laugh. Grace and Carol pulled her back down quickly.

"You're supposed to be making them uncomfortable, not scare them," her sister chided. They all laughed again.

This went on for a couple more minutes while the four boys grew more and more uneasy. Finally Tom sighed and called his male guests to him.

"Look, they're trying to make us do something stupid…"

"Like what?" asked Evan suspiciously.

"_I don't know!_ But if my _sister_ started this we gotta watch out. She's too smart for her own good."

"Why don't we just sit down and pretend they're not there?" suggested Jesse.

"Because then they'll get desperate," warned Mikey, his voice a bit panicky, but confident in his hushed statement. "Desperate girls are _always_ a bad thing." As if to emphasize his point, Grace called out to him, waving and winking. Mikey leaned back, clearly flustered, and hid his face.

"Come on, Sellers, be a man. It's just my stupid sister. We gotta do something…any ideas?"

_Go home!_ thought Jesse, but knew it would be eminently impolite to suggest that. "Um, I kinda like my 'ignore them' idea best," he finally offered. Mike nodded fervently.

In the background they heard more giggles.

"Nah, let's get back at them."

"How? _There's too many of them_," Mikey cried out in a panic, almost loud enough for the girls to hear. The other three boys laughed at him.

Tom reached over and patted Mikey on the shoulder. "There are only four of them, Sellers. Don't be a wuss."

The cowering boy suddenly looked offended. "_Don't call me a wuss!_"

Just then, Grace called out to Mikey a third time and he sank further back into the sofa. "Ok, I'm a wuss. I'll go along. Just don't do anything that makes them get ideas."

Evan and Jesse looked at each other, both clearly wondering what that was supposed to mean.

"Ok, my sister started it so I'll finish it: Here's the plan."

But before he could reveal his clever idea, the voice of Mr. Jacobs came booming down the stairs. "Pizza's here, Tommy. Where are you kids going to eat? Down there or up here?"

Tom frantically motioned for everyone to stay in the basement, though Mikey was plainly questioning the wisdom of this decision, hoping for segregated dining areas. Jesse, however, agree with Tom and joined the Jacobs siblings in climbing the stairs to fetch the food, returning shortly with far more pizza than they could ever eat, paper plates, napkins, and Tom carrying a freshly made pitcher of brown-pink liquid, his sister following and looking glum.

"Mom said I sounded so upset about spilling the first that she made another," deadpanned Grace.

The meal went by quietly, and far too quickly; all of Grace's ice-breaking efforts seemingly lost. But it didn't matter. As Tom and Grace started to collect the trash and leftovers, Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs came down the stairs and settled themselves in front of the TV, apparently playing the part of silent party crashers. Mr. Jacobs eventually spoke up, wishing Jesse a happy birthday and informing the kids that he and Mrs. Jacobs were going to watch a documentary on the Discovery Channel. Everyone's face fell.

Jesse gave Leslie an eternally suffering look, she grimaced in agreement.

But Grace was not to be denied another opportunity at adolescent entertainment. She marched over to her parents and told them they were about to play a game, and could they _please_ watch the show upstairs. This thought, evidently, had never occurred to her parents and they rose to leave. It was such an odd twist of events, and had everyone trading looks of suspicion. Mrs. Jacobs, however, stopped at the bottom of the steps and refused to leave until her daughter told her what game they were going to play. She was smiling, but clearly the woman knew her daughter, and was wary of any game she might promote where adult presence was not desired. And then, before she could answer, Mrs. Jacobs forbid them from playing Twister.

Tom snorted back a laugh and most of the others exchanged curious looks.

Jesse, who had always _wanted_ to play the game, was actually disappointed. But when he realized the chance of having his face pressed against some part of Leslie was equal to that of having it pressed anywhere _near_ Evan, so the idea soured quickly.

Nonplussed for a moment, Grace's role as party activity coordinator was usurped by Carol Silliard who said they were going to play Truth or Dare. Mrs. Jacobs looked rather shocked for a moment, recovered, told the kids to "Keep it G-rated," and walked up the stairs.

Tom snickered. "Jeez, Carol, I never thought we'd get that response from my mother. I was afraid she was going to insist on joining us." Most of the kids found this amusing. But Jesse and Mikey were looking at each other with trepidation. Neither knew what the game was, but the fact that the four girls appeared delighted, and that Mrs. Jacobs had to 'rate' the game, was a dark omen to both of them.

"Um, so, um, what's this game?" asked Jesse haltingly. His anxiety was further enhanced when Leslie got an unusually mischievous look on her face. _This has to be bad…_

Lisa and Carol, alternating every few sentences, explained the rules. Jesse looked at Mikey and sighed.

"Ok, but let's just do one round," pleaded Jesse, "Then we can… do something else," he offered vaguely. Grace and Leslie frowned, but no one protested.

The eight sat and looked at Carol to see who should go first. Jesse quickly suggested it be him because it was his birthday, but Grace said that the best position in Truth or Dare was the last. "That way you could ask the last question to whoever might have irritated or embarrassed you the most, free of retribution," she pointed out. Jesse agreed and Carol was selected to go first by lottery.

The first Silliard twin sat quietly for a few seconds, and then smiled, looking at Mikey. Mikey groaned.

"Truth or dare, Mikey?" she asked.

At this point, general mayhem broke out over the rules; some claiming the question had to be posed first. Eventually, everyone agreed on this method.

"Ok, ok… Mikey, who was the first girl you kissed?" asked Carol without much reflection, and looking smug. Jesse thought someone so experienced in the game might have asked a cleverer question.

But surprising the entire gathering, the boy sat up straight and answered clearly and unembarrassed, "_My_ _mother_."

Jesse, Tom, and Evan all cheered the crafty answer; the girls protested. But Mikey stood up for his answer.

"You weren't specific about age or relations!"

Recriminations started flying between the girls, much to the boys' amusement, but things settled down quickly. It occurred to Jesse that Mikey's bold answer probably doomed the other three boys to more precise and discomforting inquiries.

Tom was next and had apparently already had a question prepared. He turned to his sister who gave him a warning look.

Jesse thought she looked a little worried, too.

"Grace. What is the name of the boy – _not related to you_ – who you secretly love…" and then added quickly to clarify and pinpoint the answer, "…_the most?_ Truth or dare?"

There were some snickers from the group, but Grace was clearly not amused. Everyone sat silently, watching the girl think more about hateful thoughts towards her brother than how to answer the question. And as they sat, Jesse remembered what Tom had said to him on the stairs. He suddenly felt his stomach cramp. Then Grace spoke.

"Dare."

Hidden in the momentary splash of comments from the other girls to Grace, Jesse nudged Tom and said quietly but forcefully, "_Don't do it._" Tom gave him a superior look and proclaimed his dare.

"Stand on your head for ten seconds."

Grace was always doing head-stands, cartwheels, and other gymnastics with revolting ease, so Jesse wasn't sure, at first, why Tom had picked such an unchallenging dare. As she stood and toed off her shoes, Grace too was visibly relieved. But then, along with most of the partygoers, Jesse realized Grace wasn't wearing clothing appropriate for being upside down for any length of time: A skirt and loose top. As she was about to start, Grace realized this too and went beet red. When she started to tuck her shirt in her brother reminded her of the rules.

"Can't do that, sis. One ten second handstand, please. And if it isn't ten seconds you have to do it until it is."

The other three girls quickly and quietly tucked in their tops.

Grace angrily protested that the dare might not be considered G-rated, but Carol, playing the roll of rule judge, told her if she had "Anything on underneath, she had to do the dare."

Grace appeared ready to cry, but Jesse had little sympathy for her; she was, along with Carol, the most enthusiastic proponent of the game and had made clear she would be taking no prisoners when her turn came up. And the seedy idea of getting a glance at her underwear wasn't too bad either, though there _was_ an annoyingly noisy..._something_ in the back of Jesse's head telling him he should be ashamed with the idea of seeing a twelve year old girl's occupied undergarments. He ignored the voice and sat back, unconsciously leering slightly at the girl.

He didn't notice the disappointed look Leslie shot at him.

So Grace did it, and in full view of her audience. But she had the last laugh: Her brother's dare, also, was not specific enough. She simply turned to face away from the others and stood on her hands as directed (for fifteen seconds) pinching her skirt between her thighs. When she came down to her feet again, the girls all cheered, but Grace remained sullen, repeatedly muttering something about G-ratings. Lisa talked to her with many hushed whispers and finger points at her brother, and eventually got her back into the spirit.

The first truth and dare seemed to settle the kids some; all realizing they didn't want to be on the receiving end of an embarrassing revenge dare, though Grace was clearly waiting for her turn at her brother.

Next was Lisa who squandered her question to Evan by asking what his most embarrassing moment of the past year was. Plainly relieved, he immediately answered, "First day of school. My shorts tore when I leaned over to pick up my books." He smiled at the others and sat back, waiting for his turn.

Carol punched her sister's arm, saying something that sounded like, "Bonehead."

Leslie's turn was next and she immediately turned to her best friend. This did not surprise Jesse, and he wasn't too worried about her asking something uncomfortable. But she did have a rather devious – almost spiteful - look on her face…

In a less-than-friendly voice, she said, "Jesse Aarons, using the proper anatomical terms, tell us_ exactly_ what were you hoping to see when Grace stood on her head."

The twins and the other boys found this highly amusing. Grace turned red and hid her face. Jesse didn't, and suspected Leslie had seen him look a bit too eagerly at the girl a few minutes before. He felt guilty and a little ashamed, and even thought it might be his penance to say what he was thinking and accept the humiliation. But Grace herself saved him.

"_Forfeit!_" she shouted. "Jess claims a forfeit. _Don't you, Jess?_ That's in the rules! I heard it, Les didn't ask a question."

Everyone except Grace, Carol (and Jesse, who sat confused) started protesting. Carol quieted them and explained: "Jesse gets the forfeit. Leslie used an imperative sentence, not an interrogative one." She then spent the next few minutes explaining what she had just said. Jesse gave Leslie a curt smile and reminded her that he had the last spot in the game.

The mood in the room then turned tenser, it was Grace's turn next and she was certain to pick her brother after his rough treatment earlier. How this would play out, everyone couldn't wait to hear. Jesse was expecting her to ask some hideously embarrassing question about bed wetting in the hope he would take the dare, and then have him moon or kiss someone – probably one of the guys; both equally unpleasant options as far as Jesse was concerned.

He wasn't too far off.

"I pick you, _dear brother_," Grace said sweetly.

Tom looked a bit ill. "Of course you do," he said.

She spoke slowly and clearly, phrasing the question perfectly. Jesse also caught a glimpse of something very devious in her face. "Here's your question, _dear brother_: Who did you tell me, when you found out we were moving to Lark Creek, was the prettiest girl you'd ever seen?"

Most of the kids shared confused looks, not knowing that the Jacobs had met Leslie and Jesse a year before moving into the area. Jesse shook his head and actually felt a little sorry for Tom, but he had, as they say, made his own bed and would now have to sleep in it. Clearly Grace felt she had not left any loopholes in the question.

Tom muttered a few choice swear words quietly. He knew if he rejected the 'truth' the dare might be worse. The unknown factor was, how much worse? He swore again. It was quiet enough to hear the clock ticking and the Discovery Channel on the TV upstairs.

Tom cleared his throat. He still looked a little ill and was blushing, trying desperately not to look towards Leslie. But then he smiled and stood. Now Grace was looking a little worried.

"I said to _you_: 'Grace, you're the prettiest girl I know.'"

His sister immediately shot up. _"No you didn't, Thomas Jacobs. You said something else; you're a liar and a cheat!"_

Tom, still standing, gave it right back to his sister. _"I did too. You were bugging me for months and I said that to shut you up!"_

"_LIAR! THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU SAID TO ME_!"

Tom was becoming visibly angry with his sister as they shouted louder. _"IS TOO!"_

"_IS NOT!"_

"_IS TOO!"_

This went on a bit, rather childishly, until Grace changed the mantra.

"LIAR! YOU SAID…"

But she faltered: Her brother had stepped right in front of her and yelled in her face while poking a finger in the middle of her chest: _"I SAID 'YOU'RE THE PRETTIEST GIRL I KNOW' BECAUSE YOU KEPT WHINING ABOUT HOW I SAID LES WAS THE PRETTIEST. I…aw..."_ Tom sputtered to a stop, his hand pointing directly at Leslie who was looking both flattered and embarrassed.

The room burst into laughter. Grace beamed. Tom, looking extremely vexed, folded his arms across his chest and sat down, refusing to look at anyone.

"Good GRACIOUS, children, what's all that yelling about?" they heard Mrs. Jacobs call out from above.

"Nothing, Mom, we're just having a spirited game," Grace called back.

Jesse caught Leslie's eyes and smiled warmly. She mouthed something back, but he couldn't tell what she'd said. But even not knowing left him feeling good.

At Tom's expense, the room enjoyed a good long laugh, and when Evan's turn came up no one expected anything would top what had just occurred. But Evan couldn't think of anything terrible imaginative to ask, so he borrowed Tom's used question and asked Grace: "What's the name of the boy – not related to you – who you secretly love…?"

The girl glared at him, commented on his lack of imagination and mental acuity, and pronounced, "Dare," knowing Evan would not make her do anything too absurd.

But Evan was cleverer than Grace had given him credit for, and he was not indisposed to use his one opportunity in the most satisfying way. But before he made his dare, he asked Carol if a kiss was 'G-rated.'

Predictably, Grace's face fell and she looked to the twin for support, but Carol had already started to answer.

"Kisses are ok, as long as they are brief and on the lips. _No hickies._"

"What's a hickey?" asked Leslie. Carol told her and she instantly made a connection between her description and the spots on Marcia Conway's neck.

But even after this, Grace wasn't prepared for the dare when it came. Evan looked at the other three boys, arched his eyebrows, and said, "Grace, kiss any of the girls in this room."

Appearing too stunned to reply, Grace stood open-mouthed, unmoving; Lisa looked disgusted; Carol had a look of horror on her face; Leslie had covered hers with her hands. Evan and the boys stood cheering triumphantly and began quietly chanting, "Kiss, kiss, kiss..."

But cutthroat Truth or Dare requires, as the kids had found early in the game, a certain flare for creative interpretation, and if Grace Jacobs was anything, she was creative. She skillfully feigned to ponder her options, letting the boys get excited and her female friends worried. Then she walked over to Leslie, said she was sorry and….kissed _her_ _own_ hand.

The guys were instantly deflated and Grace stuck out her tongue at them, smiled, and returned to her seat as the girls cheered her raucously.

Mikey Sellers was next and directed his question to Tom.

"Who are you going to ask to the dance next month?"

He was, of course, referring to the final seventh grade dance/party in late May. Tom gave him a lame look, though he was secretly relieved to avert anything emotionally charged.

"I, uh, haven't decided. Does that count as an answer?" he asked Carol, who looked perplexed.

"I'm not sure, but the rules _do_ allow vague answers to vague questions, obviously."

"But my answer's not vague; I don't know who I'm go... I don't even know _if_ I'm going," he pleaded.

The general consensus was that his answer was valid, though Grace tried to push for another question. Carol shot it down, it was Jesse's turn next, and last, and she was curious how he would play his hand.

But over the past hour, Jesse couldn't think of anyone he wanted to try to embarrass. He might have chosen Grace, but she had already been abused twice. He really didn't want to ask the twins anything, for unlike the others, they were likely to twist the truth or dare to _their_ advantage, probably humiliating him in the process. Leslie was looking at him questioningly, as if she expected him to ask her; _that_ wasn't going to happen, either. Evan would probably be hurt or become disagreeable if he was asked why he didn't bathe more often. Tom was out. That left only Mikey. Jesse looked his way and saw him silently pleading no, but he pressed forward.

"Mikey, who was the last girl, outside your family, you kissed?"

Everyone was deflated by the banal question. Even Mikey's shoulder's fell and he gave Jesse a, _I can't believe you asked me such a lame question,_ look, and chose the dare.

Jesse seriously considered asking Mikey to kiss someone, but that dare seemed passé now, and he wanted to get the game over with and move on to something safer. He told Mikey his dare was to turn his shirt inside-out and wear it that way for the rest of the party. _He_ though it was an imaginative choice and congratulated himself. Looking a bit self-conscious, Mikey did it – to the hoots and cheers and suggestive comments from the girls.

With that the game was over, and none too soon, Jesse thought. The tension in the room was more than he cared for, and the Jacobs siblings looked ready to have at each other again. So with a common sense of relief, everyone stood, stretched, and broke up into smaller groups to play darts, checkers, or one of other few dozen games the Jacobs had stashed on shelves in one of the corners.

Driving home later that evening, Jesse and Leslie were balancing two small piles of gifts on their lap. Mr. Burke asked if they had a good time and told Jesse he had sent the new illustrations off to Jason Graham. But little he said was heard. What Jesse had really wanted that day was to be with just Leslie, and talk about all the things they had not been able to talk about over the past three months. It appeared he would have to settle for holding her hand for ten minutes on the drive home. It was, he realized, a selfish wish, to have his best friend all to himself when his family was ready to celebrate amongst themselves at home.

The car pulled up to the front of Jesse's house and he and Leslie carried the gifts inside. No one was around. There was a note on the table that the family had gone out to a movie and would be home around ten. Jesse smiled.

_An hour and a half... I wonder..._

He made a snap decision. "Want to stay a while?"

"Sure," responded Leslie, immediately and enthusiastically. She ran back out to the car to ask her father and returned in less than a minute. Jesse had shed his jacket and was already slouched on the couch when Leslie returned. Tossing her sweater on the kitchen table, she ran in and jumped on couch next to her friend.

Looking around, she asked, "Where is everyone?"

"Off to a movie. They'll be back around ten the note said," he answered, smiling.

"_Jesse Aarons! Mom would KILL me if she knew we were here alone. She'd probably kill you, too._" They both laughed as Leslie pulled her legs up beneath her and sat back on them facing Jesse. The smile on her face, however, assured Jesse that she wasn't in the least bit concerned about her mother.

To his very great surprise, Jesse suddenly blurted out exactly what he'd been feeling for weeks. "_I've missed you, Les!_ Last month was horrible; I wanted to go hiking with you in the woods and get away from here. I'm having nightmares again, it's hard to sleep, I have a pile of homework, and..." He didn't get to finish what he was saying; Leslie had lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

"Me too, Jess. I'm sick of the play and the jerks in high school. I wish I'd never tried out for the part."

Jesse cautiously placed his arms around the girl; though they were in an awkward position, it helped him calm down. The anxiety of his 'mental' issues, school, his family, all seemed to be forgotten; they were floating away into nothing, while new, very different sensations replaced them. For the first time he could recall, Jesse was not at all apprehensive about his proximity to his girlfriend. On the contrary, it provided a whole different type of energy, the kind that made him think about things... _about Leslie_, in a _very_ different way.

And then, somehow, their faces were only millimeters apart. She smiled shyly. He smiled back.

Both moved into the kiss, unsure of what exactly would happen, but desiring desperately to show their mutual affection. Their minimally experienced lips met and pressed gently together, at first, then harder for a few seconds until they had to break apart to breath.

They opened their eyes again and saw the other smiling.

"Hi," whispered Leslie coyly , straining against every impulse, every neuron in her mind and muscle in her body that was telling her to mash her mouth against Jesse's. And she could tell he felt the same way.

"Hi...that was... nice." He was panting lightly. Leslie nodded in agreement, though she could see he looked a bit alarmed.

"Want to do it again?" she asked, boldly this time, blushing even more. She didn't know how or why, but more words popped out of her mouth, seemingly of their own accord: "This time, relax, Jess, like this." Leslie kissed his cheek softly, so he could feel her lips, not just as taut pieces of flesh shielding her teeth.

She pulled back and let Jesse make the next move.

The second time was even better, softer, and longer. They broke apart every so often to gasp for air, immediately returning a couple more times to feed their frenzied and clouded mind what it desired.

When they stopped next, Jesse found he and Leslie were partially reclined on the couch; he had no recollection of moving. She was on top, the upper half of her body laying across his chest. It felt good. _It felt too good_, Jesse realized, panicked slightly. Fortunately, Leslie sat up, wiping her lips on the sleeve of her blouse and fixing her pony tail.

_How did her lips get wet?_ Jesse wondered. Then he realized his were, too. _The only way they could become wet was if some of our... oh! _But the thought of their saliva mixing suddenly was not as disgusting as he thought it should have been. Old logic seemed to have faded away.

Leslie leaned in and kissed him softly again, but lingered only a second. _God, what's happening to me? To us?_ Thought the girl. _Unexplored territory_.

"Jess," she started shyly, whispering again. "I like kissing you like that. Do you like it?"

He could barely answer. "It was... Yeah. Um, why are out lips so wet?"

She looked confused for a second. "Oh, well...I guess they, you know, we were pressing hard and some...you know..."

"Yeah. That's ok, isn't it?" queried Jesse, uncertainly.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"I...I think it's supposed to be that way."

She sat up, leaning against Jesse, his one arm around her shoulder, the other being held by both hers hands in her lap. Then Leslie told Jesse what she had seen Robin and Marcia do at drama, deliberately omitting any action below the neck.

The fixed look of curiosity and excitement in Jesse's face faded with each word. "_IN_ her mouth? He put his tongue _IN_ her mouth? And she did it, too? You're joking, aren't you? You're _not_ joking! Does everyone do that?"

"_Jesse Aarons!_ _How would I know?_ You're the only boy I've ever kissed, and I don't go around watching others do it."

"Oh, yeah...D'you suppose it just happens after a while?"

Leslie shrugged. "I guess." _I hope so...don't I?_

The conversation had calmed both adolescents down to where they were thinking a bit more clearly. Still, every couple minutes, one would turn and kiss the other.

Jesse licked his lips after one kiss, tasting Leslie's lip gloss. When he wondered if he could taste it on _HER_ lips. His heart seemed to skip a beat.

The kitchen clock chimed. Distracted, Jesse saw the time: Nine forty-five

"_Nine forty-five! Crap! Les, my family will be home any minute! Let's get the room fixed._" In the distraction of their play, the couch cushions had become scattered; these were quickly set back. Then, outside, mercilessly soon, they heard a car pulling up to the house.

Leslie looked at Jesse and nearly screamed. "Jess, fix your clothes!" Jesse's shirt had become creased and half un-tucked from his jeans. He told Leslie to straighten herself, too, but she was already headed to the bathroom, stopping only when she realized she had no brush. She quickly raked her fingers through her hair and sprinted back into the room just as the back door was opening.

Ellie's voice called out, with a hint of amusement: "Jess, are you decent?"

Jesse was horrified, but Leslie had no trouble retorting brazenly, "No he isn't, come back in an hour!" Jesse froze in disbelief for a moment.

There was a rapid patter of feet as Joyce Ann and May ran in to the room. May waved happily to Leslie. The eldest girl, clearly surprised at her brother's foolish audacity, appeared a little disappointed when she entered. But Ellie's expression changed to something akin to approval when she looked from Leslie to Jesse and back. A moment later their parents and Brenda came in.

"Happy Birthday, Jess...oh, Leslie, you're here," sputtered Mary Aarons, clearly surprised to discover as a guest the slightly ruffled girl, hair askew, failing woefully at flattening down her blouse without being noticed.

"Jesse, walk Leslie home," said his father sternly. "And come straight back here."

"Yes, sir."

Hand in hand, the two thirteen year olds headed down the long drive towards Leslie's house, walking neither too slowly, nor too rapidly; both wanting to hang on to the evening just a little longer. Between them, there was a good-sized list of questions about what had happened, both for them self and the other.

Leslie's first was very straight-forward and practical: _When can we do that again?_

Jesse's first was far more complex: _It was great, but….why do I feel guilty for feeling so good?_

But the questions could wait.

Jesse could _still_ taste a little of Leslie's lip gloss, and smell her hair in his hands. He had a sudden urge to grab and kiss her _that way_ again, to heck with what his father said!

"Happy birthday, Jess," said Leslie softly, slowing the pace as they approached her front porch. "We made it."

"Made what?"

"You don't remember? My mother said we couldn't '_really kiss_' until we were thirteen?"

Jesse snickered. "Is _that_ what we were doing?"

Leslie released Jesse's hand and clung to his arm. "Yep. It made a nice birthday present, didn't it?"

He pondered this for a few seconds. "Yes. Thanks, Les, it was my best birthday ever." His friend gave him a brilliant smile; it was unusually florescent in the moon and star light. Jesse couldn't help but think how lucky he was. And now, more than anything else, he wanted to resolve the 'problem' he had going on in his head, he wanted to move forward, and not have to worry about the nightmares, and the migraines, and everything that was making him hesitant. He wanted to be a normal guy, with a normal girlfriend, and live like a normal teenager.

Leslie saw her boyfriend zone-out for a moment and wrapped her arms around his neck, their faces just inches apart, but Jesse remained distant. They were in front of her house now, but she didn't care if her mother or father saw them. Her diary entry that night, Leslie knew, would need to be written with invisible ink: She had _never_ felt as she did earlier in the evening. Nothing had even come remotely close. She knew, and she knew that Jesse knew, they had crossed a bridge in their relationship. _And we did it together_. She felt Jesse's arms enveloped her, and both tightened the embrace. There was something very wonderful, very calming, very exciting, and very new passing through her, at every spot their bodies touched. It was that feeling like she would explode if she didn't do something to ease it.

But now wasn't the time. Jesse would have to run home; his parents were clearly upset about finding them alone in the house without their knowledge.

"Good night, Jess," said Leslie, releasing her hold.

"Night, Les. Thanks again."

"My pleasure," she said, meaning it. She touched his cheek.

"I gotta go. See you tomorrow?"

She nodded.

And, as if he had reverted back to an earlier point in their relationship, Jesse leaned down and kissed Leslie's cheek very properly. He started to move away, but their fingers remained touching for a few final seconds before separating - Jesse walking backwards, watching his girlfriend go inside, and watching the final smile she flashed at him. He lingered just a few more seconds and then turned and sprinted home.

He felt like shouting out with happiness, with _victory_, but he didn't want to frighten the skunks which had just come out of hibernation.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The phone rang. Judy Burke answered, speaking quietly lest she awaken Jimmy.

"Hi Mary...yes, Bill told me...I was planning on talking to her, she just came in. Do you have any reason to think it was anything else? Ok, talk to you tomorrow. What's that? Yes, completely. Silly me. Yes, I trust him, too. Yes, I do. 'K. Bye."

Judy looked up to see her daughter standing in the doorway, eyes sparkling, face glowing, mouth in an expression of wonder, obviously eager to talk about something important. The fear Judy had felt for her daughter evaporated instantly as she recognized a maturity that she herself had not possessed at that age; the age she and Bill had started to _explore_. She placed the sleeping child in his bassinet, stood, and held her arms out to her daughter.

It still took a smile and nod from the mother for Leslie to believe she wasn't about to be grounded for life. And for the first time in more than a year, she saw that her mother was happy for her. Leslie wasn't certain why, and didn't ask. She ran to her and held her tightly, suddenly finding her eyes pooling. She started talking and didn't stop for forty minutes. It was part confession and part apology. But mostly it was the joy of sharing _her joy_ that spilled out.

And Judy listened.

_All this for some mild necking?_

When the teen finally calmed down, her mother thanked her sincerely for being honest, said she was happy they had a good time at the party, asked her to not be alone with Jesse for a while, grounded her for a year, and then commuted the sentence to a week. She even knew _that_ was a meaningless punishment, Leslie and Jesse saw almost nothing of each other during the week anyway, but it was enough. For now. Then she kissed her daughter and sent her to bed, where she knew Leslie would remain awake another two or three hours reading, writing in her (third) diary, dreaming of the boy she was in love with, and, perhaps, fall asleep at a reasonable hour early the following morning.

A short while later, Judy climbed into bed next to her husband and filled him in on their daughter's activities. He listened attentively.

"That's all?" said Bill, when Judy finished.

"I hope you meant that as, '_Thank heavens that was all_.'"

"Yes, absolutely, Jude." Bill started to pick up the book he was reading but stopped. "Jude, believe it or not, I _am_ concerned, too. I just handle it differently than you do. Want me to talk to her tomorrow? I guess we need to be more specific about what her limits are."

"Good idea. You do it this time. Then if it doesn't work I can blame it all on you." said Judy cynically.

"Oh, come on, Judy, that's not fair."

"No, you're right; it isn't."

Judy kissed Bill and turned over to find a comfortable spot. She was just beginning to show and needed a few extra pillows for comfort. Arranging them took a couple minutes.

Bill Burke watched his wife for a while, never returning to his book. He was reflecting back upon what had gone through his own mind when he was thirteen and fourteen.

It was a little scary.

- - - - - - - - - - -

When Jesse returned, his father had already sent the family upstairs. He pointed to the sofa. Jesse thought he wanted him to sit until he noticed that, in their panic, he and Leslie had put all the cushions on incorrectly.

"Fix that, son. Then sit." He did as was told, embarrassed that they had been so completely transparent.

"Didn't your mother talk to you about being alone with Leslie, back around Christmas?" His voice carried more disappointment than anger. So far.

"Um, yes, sir."

"Then why the _HELL_ were you alone with her tonight?" The transition from disappointment to anger was painfully brief.

Jesse tried to explain how he had hoped for a quiet evening with Leslie, so they could just talk. He swore that 'nothing happened.' But when his father asked if he would have done 'it' in front of him or Mr. and Mrs. Burke, Jesse faltered.

"I – I don't know...we were just, um...kissing." He unconsciously wiped his mouth.

His father watched him silently for a few seconds. "Jess, you're grounded for a week, and if this happens again, it'll be a month. Son, if you want us to trust you, you've got to earn it. And you don't earn it with stunts like this." He was slapping one hand into another, trying to emphasize the point; it left Jesse a bit anxious. He could easily remember a time when that hand would be slapping his behind.

"Yes, sir. Sorry." When his father said nothing, Jesse asked a burning question. "Dad, why is it so bad for us, um, Leslie and me, to be alone together? I mean," he added quickly, seeing his father's eyebrows arch menacingly, "besides it looking bad and all."

Jesse Aarons Sr. tried to reign in his temper: Apparently much of their talk over Christmas hadn't sunk in. He told Jesse to get his jacket and shoes; they were going for another (long) walk. When they returned an hour and a half later, near midnight, Mr. Aarons could not be certain his son had absorbed everything he'd retold him. And he realized, now, that it might have been a better approach to only detail the next step towards intimacy. But what was done was done, he thought with finality.

A short time later, Jesse went to bed more confused than before; but his dreams were pleasant, and centered on his best friend. It was an excellent end to an interesting day.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: The last half of this chapter took longer than I expected; my apologies. It was not difficult to write, but it was terribly difficult to edit and 'temper' the kids' actions properly and realistically._

_I created a simple web site to keep people updated on the progress of my latest work(s). You can find it at my homepage._

_I have been reading a very good young-adult fantasy/fiction book called_ Twilight_, by Stephanie Meyers. Read it if you can. _

_Thank you all who have read and left reviews_.


	24. Part 3: The Rain

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 24 – The Rain**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story.  
_

WARNING  
The latter part of this chapter contains what some may consider disturbing imagery as well as  
references to mental illness and emotional issues. The story rating remains unchanged.

Sustained by the events of his birthday, Jesse (and Leslie) easily made it through their week of punishment, which, as Judy Burke knew, served as little more than a warning that their future behavior would be more carefully scrutinized. But neither adolescent had an opportunity to test their parents' resolve. Contrary to Leslie's wish at the start of the year, the time she was required to put into practicing for the May production increased. She was forced to spend up to five hours every day after school at rehearsals, and the weekends became a total loss with practices all day Saturday and Sunday afternoons. This further limited Jesse's and Leslie's time together to their morning bus rides and an occasional Sunday church service.

In the weeks following Jesse's birthday, Leslie's and Grace's friendship had grown closer, in spite of Tom's creative revelation of Grace's feelings for Jesse. Both girls had sleepovers at the other's house – a first for Leslie, and Grace, too, since she had moved to the area – and the relationship left both Jesse and Tom scratching their heads. Leslie refused to talk to Jesse about Grace's interest in him, revealing a stubborn streak that left him feeling a bit ill-used. But his girlfriend would casually and offhandedly urge him to talk to their younger friend, if he felt he needed to know. Jesse declined. Likewise, Grace rebuffed all attempts by her brother to find out Leslie's reaction to him revealing his earlier attraction to her. Like her fellow cast member and friend had done, she told Tom to talk to Leslie if he really wanted to know her reaction.

The boys forgot about all this until the first posters appeared at school announcing the May dance. An ill-conceived attempt at humor by Tom nearly earned him a busted lip when he suggested that, "I take Leslie and you take Grace to the dance, and see how it goes." Jesse cold-shouldered him for a couple days and found he had to readdress all the annoyances and petty actions which jealousy brought out of him. But like most kids their age, the awkwardness and discomfort they experienced quickly disappeared, and a week later both had returned to their usual friendly banter. The boys _eventually_ came to the conclusion that the friendship between the four of them would have fallen apart long before if there was any real conflicts of affection.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Leslie was being emotionally worn down by the relentless pace of the preparation for the show as practices wore on through April, as were most of the students in the play. Tempers, already strained, began to fracture and eventually break. Mr. Stamper's lack of control over the high school students' behavior required a number of parents to be present every day to help maintain order. By late April the situation had deteriorated to the point where the high school principal called all his students in the cast together and threatened a failing grade in Theatre if they all didn't fall into place – immediately. And they did, for the most part. (Prior to this threat, participation in any school theatrical production was an automatic A.)

May fourth and fifth were the final dress rehearsals and they went off with little trouble and no significant mistakes. On the final night before opening, Wednesday the sixth, the school held a dinner for the cast and crew. Even before the meal began, Leslie found Grace in the girl's lavatory getting sick to her stomach, something she had always done before big events, the younger girl revealed. _The Sound of Music_ was, by an order of magnitude, the most elaborate production she had participated in, and she spent the evening close to Leslie for much needed moral support. (Leslie darkly detailed how she dealt with stress, which led Grace to another round of up-chucking.)

The parents who had been regularly attending practices made a point of keeping all the non-high school performers separate from the older kids at the dinner. This arrangement kept the evening quiet, and ultimately, the parents suspected, the food on plates and in stomachs rather than all over the cafeteria floors and walls. Jesse could not attend due to a bad cold which had kept him out of school earlier in the week, and Leslie hoped that if anything good could come out of this final undesired separation it would be her avoiding the bug, at least until after the show was over.

The musical went off without any significant glitches. By the conclusion of the Sunday afternoon matinee Leslie couldn't believe four months of work were finally complete, and she discovered that the exciting theatrical experience was woefully inadequate for the inconvenience and aggravation it required in return. Jesse attended the last show and joined Leslie and Grace at the cast and crew party being held in the school cafeteria. The three went out of their way to avoid most of the high schoolers, except Janice Avery, and in any event, what the two girls wanted most was quiet, and time to unwind. Unfortunately, both had mountains of homework facing them. It took them the better part of the following two weeks to catch up with all their late and missed assignments.

Now and then Jesse would hear Leslie swearing to never, "_Do that again_," or at least until she was in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - -

A few weeks earlier, when Jesse had met with his psychiatrist and hypnotherapist for a third time in early April, he had handed over the results of his research into the claims his older self was making in the dreams. Dr. Carlson set aside the information, however, and spent the entire session going over dozens of questions he needed answered before the next meeting in May. He was attempting to reach a part of Jesse's subconscious that would both give him some insight into the "older Jesse" and test the limits of how deep he could successfully probe. Afterwards, he told Jesse that it had been a fruitful session, but would not elaborate.

That evening, after a quiet dinner with his wife and children, Carlson went to his home office and began to review the notes Jesse had given him. He was astonished by the analysis and how Jesse supported or refuted each conclusion with the facts researched. When complete the doctor sat back looking at a sheet of paper with some of Jesse's notes. He got an idea. Rifling through the moderately thick folder of information he had collected from the boy over the past eight months, he soon found what he was looking for. Following an hour or so of his own research and analysis, Carlson called his friend, Dave Scoggins. He explained his hypothesis and wanted to see if his friend would like to be present at the next session with Jesse. Some schedule juggling was required, but Scoggins and Carlson agreed on a date and time.

The next morning, Carlson placed a call to the Aarons' house and spoke with Mary. He explained the necessity for the change and ran the new date by her. She laughed, "I'm due that day, but we will get Jesse there some way." Everyone penned the appointment into their calendars: Wednesday, May twentieth.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Brian Parker Aarons was born on Sunday, May 17, 2009.

Keeping the promise to her friend and neighbor, Judy Burke assisted in coaching Mary through labor, something Jesse Sr. was initially hesitant about, but later thanked her for. The boy was healthy and Jesse Jr. was beside himself with eagerness to play with his newborn brother. Jesse Sr. took a week off from work, and thus, to him fell the job of transporting Jesse to his May twentieth session with Dr. Carlson. He had not been to any of the earlier hypnotherapy appointments, but his wife told him what to expect, and what was required of him. The man nodded quietly, displaying little emotion, as usual, and assured his wife they would _both_ be fine.

Mary Aarons hoped it was true.

- - - - - - - - - - -

On the evening of May nineteenth, David Scoggins, his doctor friend, and the local hypnotist, Cheryl Woodley, met to discuss plans for the following day. Scoggins and Woodley, having already suspected the conclusion Carlson had presented concerning Jesse's diagnosis, listened intently and offered a number of suggestions in his line of questioning. What they were facing was unusual, to say the very least, and all three were eager to make the most of the unique opportunity. Carlson had even purchased a new digital video camera for recording the session. The planning ended late that evening; all three were tired and apprehensive about the next day. They knew a little bit of history may be made.

The following afternoon, at four o'clock sharp, Jesse sat in the interview room at Dr. Carlson's office. He gave his father a silly, carefree grin and wave just before Woodley began to hypnotize him. This being his fourth time, Jesse quickly and easily slipped into the light trance. Woodley and Scoggins took a couple minutes to ask a standard series of questions to ensure the subject was fully 'under.' When satisfied, Jesse was told he was going to speak with Dr. Carlson again. He nodded.

"Hello, Jess. Would you please draw me a picture of your house at Lark Creek?" asked Carlson in a friendly manner, handing the boy his sketch pad and pencil he had purchased earlier that day.

Jesse murmured agreement and took the pad and pencil. Over the next fifteen minutes he produced an excellent likeness of the structure, clearly good enough to be framed, if not sold. Dr. Carlson thanked him and took the pad back.

"Thank you, Jesse, that's a fine drawing. How long did it take you to get that good?"

In an unfamiliar, low-pitched, almost guttural voice, Jesse answered. "In college…took art classes…practiced a lot..."

Carlson looked at Woodley and Scoggins, nodding somberly. He was in. Scoggins left to be with the boy's father who was bound to be puzzled by the answer his son had just given.

"Jesse, what's your favorite thing to draw?"

"Ssssssh…"

"I'm sorry, Jesse, I didn't catch that," said Carlson gently, reassuringly.

"She…Leslie…can't draw her any more…forgot her...face…"

"What happened to Leslie, Jesse?"

It took the boy a few seconds to answer. When he did it came out more like a wail.

"Dead, she's dead…long ago."

"How did she die, Jesse?"

"….Drowned." He started sobbing softly.

Woodley gave Carlson a cautioning look and he nodded in response.

"We won't talk about that now, Jesse. Why don't you tell me what you did after college?"

Over the next hour, Jesse summarized what he had done in the 8 years between the time he graduated and when he killed himself. Carlson, knowing about the suicide, stopped him before reaching that point. There was a muted noise behind him. Carlson suspected it was Scoggins trying to calm Mr. Aarons. There had been no way around it: Neither of Jesse's parents could have the slightest idea what was going to happen that day or the effort might have been compromised. He had to know that _everything_ addressed that day was coming only from the brain of Jesse Aarons.

"Jesse, tell me about Dr. Hastings, your friend in England."

Jesse did so, confirming the stories he'd told his younger self, and were then related to Dr. Carlson. Down a long sheet of paper, every fact Carlson had been given was listed. As Jesse spoke, the doctor checked them off, one at a time: A total of one hundred forty-seven specific items.

More than once, Woodley and Carlson made note of the fact that Jesse used "I" instead of "he" when speaking of the Englishman.

Carlson then moved on to other areas: Jesse's family, his sister's and father's death, his drug and alcohol addiction. Every question was checked, every date, person, place, event was marked off.

_On paper_, it appeared there was little doubt that Carlson _was_ speaking with a man from Jesse's future.

Then came the difficult part.

"Jesse," encouraged Carlson, "I know this is long and tedious, but I have just a few more questions. Can you help me?"

He nodded, his head slumped down, chin resting on his chest.

Carlson then went on to ask a series of questions about the living, younger Jesse Aarons, his friends, activities, wishes, hopes, dreams. With each answer, Carlson felt a surge of relief. It lasted another hour.

"Jesse, I have just one more question for you. What do you think about when I say the word _rain_?"

There was a long pause, during which time the hypnotized boy became agitated. Carlson nodded to Woodley and she pulled Jesse out of the trance, as easily and gently as she had put him in. When awake, Jesse rubbed the back of his neck.

"Wow, I'm sore. Was this a long one?" asked Jesse, apparently oblivious to everything that had just taken place.

Carlson looked at his watch, smiling. "You could say that, Jess. About three hours."

Jesse's response was drowned out by the door opening and his father running in. The man's face was clearly troubled, having heard for the past few hours what some of his son's demons _really_ were. Carlson caught Scoggins' eye and he nodded, indicating he had filled Jesse Sr. in on their suspicions and what they were working towards. The man was kneeling in front of his son, more dramatically than Carlson would have wanted, but then, the depth of the 'problem' was unique.

"Mr. Aarons, it would be best if we met with Jess again tomorrow. Can you have him here, same time?"

Mr. Aarons nodded shakily, but said nothing.

Thursday afternoon, found Jesse back for his second session in as many days. More prepared this day than the previous, Mr. Aarons was calmer, but his face still bore a trace of concern. He also handed the doctor a bag of books and magazines he had removed from Jesse's room while he was in school, per his directions. Scoggins told Jesse Sr. that he would join him as soon as his son was prepared. In a few minutes they sat together as Carlson began the second day of questioning.

"Jess, can you hear me? I'd like you to draw another picture of your house at Lark Creek. Can you do that?" He nodded and Carlson handed the pad and pencil to the boy.

In the observation room, Jesse's father asked Scoggins why the doctor had Jesse draw the picture again.

"It serves as a door into the boy's mind. Once the picture is complete we know we're talking to…the other Jesse. Did you notice the names Dr. Carlson uses with him? When he is first hypnotized he refers to 'Jess,' after the drawing he's 'Jesse.'"

"'Jesse,' as in this…this future Jesse you spoke about yesterday?" asked Mr. Aarons, making sure he understood Scoggins correctly.

Scoggins said yes. "We should listen now. This part is important."

When Jesse finished the drawing a quarter hour later he handed the pad back.

"Wonderful, Jesse. Thank you."

Carlson then started asking 'Jesse' the same set of questions as the day before, many with slight variations. Next to him, Woodley was paging through the books and a few magazines Mr. Aarons had brought with them. She was glad the boy had not been an avid reader. After perusing through the materiel for a while, she caught Carlson's eyes and nodded, and then marked a place in one of the books.

"Jesse, you told me yesterday about Dr. Hastings. Do you remember that?"

"Yes."

"You're very fond of him, aren't you?" asked Carlson.

"Yes…he helped…"

"Yes he did. He helped you get back to Leslie, didn't he?"

"Yes, but I did the work. He just confirmed it could be done and…" Jesse trailed off.

"'And'? What else did he do?"

"Helped me back…"

"Yes, he helped you back to Leslie, didn't he?" prodded the doctor.

"Couldn't do it without him…"

"That's right, Jesse: You couldn't do it without him."

In the observation room, Scoggins told Mr. Aarons the significance of the last few questions. "If you look at Jess's records where he speaks about Hastings, there are some subtle but important changes over the months. When we first asked him about the man, Jess's story about his roll in getting back to Leslie was different. Over the past three months that story has evolved from one where Hastings merely offered confirmation and support to this story..."

"He said Hastings helped him get back..." Mr. Aarons finished.

"That's right. Let's see how the rest goes," said Scoggins, pointing to the window.

"Let's move on now, Jesse. Your sister, May Belle, she helped you a lot, too, didn't she?"

Jesse smiled a little. "She was the only one who stuck by me…helped me with money…and the visit to England…"

"To see Dr. Hastings?"

"Yes."

"She sounds like a wonderful sister. Did you two always get along so well?"

It took a moment for the boy to answer this one. "She helped me."

"Yes, Jesse, you said that. Did you two always get along so well?" he repeated, glancing at Woodley. The hypnotist gave him a thumb's-up.

There was another pause. "May…helped...me get back to Leslie."

In the observation room, Mr. Aarons ventured a guess. "Is that a change in the story, too?"

Scoggins nodded.

Carlson scribbled frantically and then switched topics again. "Jesse, what is _Terabithia_?"

"…Place...Leslie and me played," he said smiling. "When we first became friends we built the imaginary kingdom where nothing could hurt us."

"Hurt you?"

"Yes."

"Who was hurting you, Jesse?"

In a dull, monotone, Jesse told stories about himself and Leslie, how they had been outcasts and bullied by others at school and his feelings of neglect at home. In the booth, Mr. Aarons dropped his head in shame, recognizing the truth of his son's statements. Next, Jesse told of how Terabithia had become a haven for them, and how they had learned to face their problems and fears. And how it had drawn them together.

"Leslie sounds like a special person."

Jesse's voice cracked. "She was."

"I see. And who was there with you and Leslie?"

"No one…all make-believe…except…" Jesse trailed off.

"Except who, Jesse?"

"…_HIM_…" Jesse waved his hand vaguely, dismissively.

"Who is it, Jesse? Who is '_him_'?"

"The…The Darkness…The Dark Master…he helped me, too."

"Helped you? How so?"

"Get back…"

"To Leslie?"

"Yes."

"That was _very_ nice of him. So why do you call him 'Darkness' and 'Dark Master'?"

"Chased me…hated me…wanted me dead…didn't love me…like my father didn't love me…"

Carlson ignored, for now, this reference. In the other room, Scoggins cringed. The humiliation Jesse's father was feeling was palpable.

"But you said he helped you get back to Leslie. Why would he do that?"

"He…He had the power." Jesse paused and then snorted derisively. "He didn't charge me much."

"'Charge you'?" parroted Carlson, a little astonished.

"To take me back to Leslie…so I could save her."

"What did he charge you, Jesse?" asked the doctor softly.

Still another pause, briefer this time. "My fears…he likes my fears…makes him stronger, he said. But I didn't give in…"

"And where is the Darkness now, Jesse?"

There was a very long pause and Carlson posed the question a second time.

"He's here," said Jesse, tapping his head.

The quiet sigh from Dr. Carlson was brief but meaningful. He jotted down a few more notes, checked the video camera, and then resumed his conversation.

"Jesse, do you think it would be possible for me to speak with this...Dark Master?"

In the observation room, Mr. Aarons groaned and Scoggins put his hand on the man's shoulder reassuringly. He still didn't understand exactly what was happening with his son, but he was certain it was not good.

Jesse began to speak again. "Can't find him now...maybe later."

Carlson gave Woodley a frustrated look but tried again when he saw her mime for him to continue.

"Are you sure, Jesse? I'd really like to meet him."

Jesse's head turned to the right and then to the left, almost as if he was looking around in his semi-conscious state. After a minute, Jesse's voice again spoke, but the tone was different: Curt, sharp...dark.

"What is it you want?"

"Who are you?" said Carlson.

"…They call me Dark Master..."

"I see. Where is Jesse?"

"...Waiting..."

"Waiting? For what?"

"To die...but he's afraid of death. I like that."

The doctor thought for a moment. "May I speak to him again, please?"

Again there was silence, and when the Jesse voice returned it was clearly agitated.

"Why did you want to speak to him? He hurts...Jess."

Carlson looked up triumphantly, Woodley smiled and nodded.

In the observation room, Mr. Aarons asked in a defeated voice what the last exchange meant. Scoggins told him that the doctor would explain it, and then went back to observing the boy.

"How does he hurt Jess?" said Carlson.

"My head...his head...hurts to talk to him... like it hurts to talk to Jess."

_BINGO!_ Carlson looked up at Woodley again; she smiled and nodded. "Let's see what's left. Or should I say, _who's left_?"

"I'm sorry, Jesse, I didn't want it to hurt you. Are you in any pain?"

"Not me."

Carlson didn't understand the answer the way his friend did. Scoggins bolted from the observation room, back into the therapy area where the others were situated.

"Pull him out, doc," said Scoggins urgently, but with no trace of panic. "Right now."

Carlson nodded at the woman and she brought Jesse out of the hypnotic trance. When he looked up they could see he was in pain. He started swaying and holding his head in his hands.

"Damn!" grumbled Carlson. He looked at the observation room and waved for Mr. Aarons to come in. He was there in seconds. "Do you have Jess's migraine meds?"

Mr. Aarons handed over the bottle, but Jesse was beginning to cry out in pain and would never be able to swallow the pill. Cursing his own unpreparedness, Dr. Carlson ran to his office, returning a minute later. He turned to Jesse's father holding up syringe.

"A sedative, is he allergic to anything?"

"N-No."

Scoggins held Jesse's thrashing arms still while Carlson swabbed his shoulder and administered the medication. In seconds the boy became limp and started to slide from the chair. His father caught him and carried him to the couch.

"I think that should be all this evening," said the doctor unnecessarily. "Why don't we sit and talk about what just happened?" He pulled in a chair from the adjoining room and the four adults sat, Mr. Aarons fidgety and looking both concerned and slightly angry.

"Mr. Aarons, Dave and I suspected a few weeks ago that Jess might be suffering from a rare form of psychosis called Dissociative Identity Disorder. It used to be more commonly known as MPD, or Multiple Personality Disorder."

"Yeah, that's what Scoggins was telling me."

"Good. Did he give you any details about its causes, and so on?"

Jesse's father shook his head and Carlson immediately began reciting from memory the disorder's definition:

"Multiple Personality Disorder, or MPD, is a mental disturbance classified as one of the dissociative disorders. It was renamed Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, about ten years ago. MPD or DID is defined as a condition in which, 'Two or more distinct identities or personality states alternate in controlling the patient's consciousness and behavior.'"

"We believe Jesse has a slightly different form of DID. First, it is clear that none of the alternate personalities control Jess while he is awake..."

"Wait right there, doctor," said Mr. Aarons grimly, pointing to his son. "You said 'personalities'; how many are we talking about?"

Carlson thought for a moment before answering. "At least five I have identified: the Jess we all know, the one I refer to as Jesse - the artist, this Dark Master fellow, Dr. Hastings, and probably one named May; your daughter, right?"

"One of them, my second youngest," he supplied. Feeling feint, and rather like a truck had hit him, Mr. Aarons leaned over and put his head between his legs. Everyone waited for him to recover. Only the sound of the air compressor for the large fish tank, and Jesse's deep breathing were audible.

Carlson continued.

"The precise nature of DID, as well as its relationship to other mental disorders, is still a subject of debate. Some think that DID may be a relatively recent development in western society. It may be a culture-specific syndrome, caused primarily by childhood abuse, but ..." The doctor held his hand up, stopping the denial from Mr. Aarons. "…but we're quite sure that was not the cause in Jess's case. As I was saying, unlike depression or anxiety disorders, which have been recognized, in some form, for centuries, the earliest cases of persons reporting DID symptoms were not recorded until the late eighteenth century. Most were considered medical oddities or curiosities until the 1970s when increasing numbers of cases were reported in the United States. Psychiatrists are still debating whether DID was previously misdiagnosed and underreported, or whether it is currently over-diagnosed. Because childhood trauma is usually a factor in the development of DID, some think it may be a variation of post-traumatic stress disorder. DID and PTSD are conditions where dissociation is a prominent mechanism. The female to male ratio for DID is about 9 to 1, but the reasons for the gender imbalance are unclear. Some have attributed the imbalance in reported cases to higher rates of abuse of female children; and some to the possibility that males with DID are underreported because they might be in prison for violent crimes."

Carlson rose, and began to take a turn around the room as he continued. "The most distinctive feature of DID is the formation and emergence of alternate personalities, or 'alters.' Patients with DID experience their alters as distinctive individuals possessing different names, histories, and personality traits. From what I've learned, it is not unusual for DID patients to have alters of different genders, sexual orientations, ages, or nationalities. Some have been reported with alters that are not even human; alters have been animals, or even aliens from outer space. The average DID patient has between two and 10 alters, but some have been reported with over a hundred."

"The causes are less understood, and in your son's case, might not apply at all. But I'd like you to hear them and get your input."

Mr. Aarons nodded, his eyes closed.

"The severe dissociation that characterizes patients with DID is believed to come from one or many of these situations:"

"First," Carlson sat and leaned forward, ticking off each item in his fingers. "An innate ability to dissociate easily. In other words, like hypnosis, the patient must have some sort of predisposition to create these alters."

"Second, repeated episodes of severe physical or sexual abuse in childhood. As I said, we are quite certain this is not a factor in Jess's case. But emotional trauma, just now being fully understood, is not limited to physical abuse and seems to weight heavy in Jess's case."

"Third, the lack of a supportive or comforting person to counteract abusive situations. We still need to look into Jess's home life for answers there, but it's clear that his friend Leslie, began to play a role in this area, probably like that of a caring sister."

Mr. Aarons' heart sank even further, thinking of how his oldest two girls had ignored and even abused his son over the years.

"Fourth, the influence of other relatives with dissociative symptoms or disorders." Here the doctor looked up and met Mr. Aarons' eyes. "Sir, is there a history of mental illness in your or your wife's family?"

In a dead, guilty voice, he answered. "My older brother killed himself about thirty years ago. I don't know the details, but I knew something wasn't right with him."

Carlson made a brief note, but passed no judgment on the omission of such an important bit of family history. Then he started talking about the symptoms.

"Identity disturbances in DID result from the patient having split off entire personality traits or characteristics as well as memories. When a stressful or traumatic experience triggers the reemergence of these dissociated parts, the patient switches - usually within seconds - into an alternate personality. Some patients have histories of erratic performance in school or in their jobs caused by the emergence of alternate personalities during examinations or other stressful situations. Patients vary with regard to their alters' awareness of one another. You probably heard, toward the end of the questions, how the Jesse alter made references to our Jess. There clearly is an emotional connection between the two personalities, and that's good."

"In Jess's case, none of his alters became dominant enough to take over; but I believe his migraines are connected to this. From what I've learned from Jess and Mrs. Aarons, many of his attacks seem to have occurred at points in his life when one of his alters was attempting to emerge. We saw an example just a while ago. The alter who fancies himself the Dark Master was clearly not happy with being - shall we say - shut back up in Jesse's mind. A couple months ago, Jess told me the worst migraine he ever experienced occurred after a dream where the Jesse alter seemed to be struggling for control with something he had initially identified as his own mind. After today, I'm inclined to believe it was the Dark Master alter. In short, the migraines appear to be set off by one of the non-dominant alters attempting to gain control. And this is very important Mr. Aarons: The fact that our Jess has not let any of the alters take over his consciousness is a significant factor in favor of a complete recovery."

_Good news?_ Jesse's father wondered hopefully.

"Mr. Aarons, Jess has a serious problem, but it's not as bad as you might think," Scoggins said, trying to help the man's obvious feelings of guilt.

"_Not as bad? Is my son...crazy? Will he ever be able to live a normal life?_" shouted Mr. Aarons in frustration, but to no one in particular.

"_Yes! He will_," Dr. Carlson cut back in, reassuringly. "In fact, I believe he's already on his way to recovery. Please, let me finish and I know you'll feel better about this."

Mr. Aarons nodded.

"As I was saying, it's clear that the Jess you know is, by far, the dominant and strongest of the five alters. But that isn't to say the others are not affecting him." Carlson looked uncomfortably at his friend before continuing. "The second strongest is the Jesse alter, the one claiming he's from the future." He paused. "The one who draws so beautifully."

Mr. Aarons looked up upon hearing that. "His drawings?" Carlson nodded, face unreadable.

"Yes, sir. And it is _that_ personality which will be the most important to integrate back into the Jess you know: The Jess we all know."

Then it hit him. "He won't be able to draw any more, will he?" said Mr. Aarons quietly, almost whispering.

Carlson sighed, shaking his head. "Certainly not like he can now. Not to begin with. But you have to remember, the Jesse alter evolved _from_ Jess, and it has _nothing_ your son doesn't have. Over time, Jess should be able to develop his skills to that level, and probably beyond."

"But...but how can he do it now? He's an incredible artist...his scholarships...?"

"No one really knows, Mr. Aarons. The brain is an astonishing organ: Some people can play a concert perfectly after hearing it only once; others have a gift for languages that baffle doctors and scientists around the world. Jess's gift is drawing, but for unknown reasons it is dominant in the Jesse alter. Perhaps it relies on some type of a photographic memory to draw so well. We simply don't know."

Something sparked a memory in Jesse's father. "Jess…whenever he draws now, he's strange, he acts like he's not there – gets a blank look on his face. Is that...it – uh – the other Jesse?"

"I hadn't heard about that, but yes, it sounds possible."

The room was again silent for a few seconds, and then Dr. Carlson continued.

"We will need to work extensively with Jess over the next few weeks. I believe his prognosis is good, but it will take some effort. As we saw a few minutes ago, that Dark Master alter likes to inflict pain. That _must_ be controlled, and if possible, excised. We heard how the Jesse alter felt it was gaining some degree of control over it, and how if fed on your son's fears. Remove the fears and the alter may be…reabsorbed, for lack of a better word, into Jess's subconscious. Anyway, the others we can deal with at a more leisurely pace, but the Jesse and Dark Master alters must be dealt with immediately."

Nodding, for what seemed like the thousandth time, Mr. Aarons asked, "Who's this English person you were talking to him about?"

Carlson looked at Woodley and she handed him an old, tattered paperback. There were torn-paper markers in a few of the pages.

"_This_, my friend, is Dr. Edmond Hastings," said Carlson dramatically, holding the book up.

Mr. Aarons recognized it immediately. "Jess _loved_ that book when he was younger; he used to read it all the time."

"That's right. He loved it so much a piece of it became its own little personality inside his head. Listen:"

Carlson opened the book to the first marker and read. "_Dr. Edmond Hastings, of Cambridge University, was a well respected member of the consortium of theoretical physicists who addressed issues of time travel." _Carlson skipped a couple pages to the next one marked._ "His most significant contribution to twenty-third century Earth was in building a machine that could transport memories into the past. Hastings perfected methods of.._. Well, you get the idea. It goes on like that a while longer. Part of this book, _Tangled in Time_, actually _became_ Dr. Edmond Hastings to your son."

Holding up a thick folder of papers, like a lawyer presenting evidence at a trial, Carlson looked at Mr. Aarons. "Your son began to uncover this last month. The Jesse alter of his dreams and nightmares had attempted to give him 'proof' that he was from the future and begged Jess to look into it."

Carlson held up another smaller file of papers for all to see. "This is what Jess found: No Dr. Edmond Hastings. The other claims the Jesse alter made _all_ proved to be equally fallacious. Names, dates, places: Not one of them supportable. And as with the book," Carlson held up the paperback again, "Jess discovered that this 'future Jesse' had not one single piece of knowledge which he himself didn't already know or was just plain false."

Mr. Aarons sat back, stunned, even more confused, not knowing what to say.

"It appears that recently, the Jesse alter started to become desperate, giving our Jess false information and ruining any chance at credibility. He fabricated a story about your neighbor, Bill Burke, and the terrorist bomb in D.C. last year. Jess looked into this, too. According to the Jesse alter, sometime in 2007, in the fall I think he said, this Burke fellow would have a minor traffic accident with that guy they arrested for procuring the plutonium used in the bomb. The Jesse alter tried to convince Jess that Burke's accident led to the man's arrest preventing the bomb from detonating in _his_ alternate existence. But Jess's research discovered that the man had never even been to the U.S. until a few weeks before the attack."

"He had also told Jess about his counselor and doctors when he first attempted to commit suicide in 2022, making up elaborate stories and complicated plots. It was all fake. Everything. Even the girl's death."

This brought Mr. Aarons' head up. "Jess would talk about that in his dreams, about how she died. We all just figured it was because she almost _did_ die."

Carlson nodded knowingly. "There's a connection between all this," he held up the large file with 'AARONS, Jesse' on the label, "and that girl of his. I have my suspicions, but need to work more with Jess to find the details."

Dr. Carlson rose, stretched, and checked the time. Nearly eight. He suggested to Mr. Aarons that he call home to let his wife know he would be late. This he did, keeping the call brief and vague. When finished, they all sat down again.

"As I haven't pinned down the cause, or causes, yet, it would be foolish to speculate about the effectiveness of further therapy; these things can go sour without warning. But as I said before, it appears much of his problem centers around that girl he likes. No, that's misleading; let me rephrase. It centers on some sort of discontinuity in Jess's approach to their relationship that occurred around the time she was hurt. Probably some sort of guilt. But only time will tell."

Looking back over his notes, making sure he hadn't missed anything, Carlson made one last observation.

"Mr. Aarons, why might the word 'rain' have a special significance to Jess?"

"_Rain?_ As in water from the sky?"

"I believe so. Both Jess and the Jesse alter refuse to tell me about it, or don't remember. I suspect the former from Jesse and the later from Jess. Twice I've brought up the subject and twice it's caused a defensive reaction in your son. I need to consult with some colleagues more experienced in this field to see how I should proceed." Carlson sat back and rubbed his hands across his face. It had been a long and emotionally draining evening.

"Mr. Aarons, I recommend you take Jess home, maybe keep him out of school tomorrow if he has any lingering headache from the sedative, and say nothing about this to him. Right now he thinks this other Jesse is just a bad dream, but he _is_ beginning to suspect a mental illness is involved; he's a sharp lad. We need to make arrangements to meet with him tomorrow, and then at least three times a week until we can be sure everything is under control. I can clear my schedule, and I've already spoken to Cheryl," he nodded at the woman, "and Dave about their participation. Can we work this out?"

Still stunned by the turn of events, and having understood only half of the information presented to him, Mr. Aarons nodded absently and pulled out his pocket calendar.

"One last thing, Mr. Aarons. There is a possibility that Jess will need to be isolated while going through part of the therapy."

"Isolated? How so? Like in a mental hospital?" asked Mr. Aarons, clearly not liking the thought of _that_.

"No, but we may have to admit him to the psychiatric ward at Valley General. We should know if this is necessary tomorrow."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Mary Aarons suspicions that something was seriously wrong were confirmed when she saw her husband and son walk in the door. Aside from the fifty minute appointment that turned into four hours, Jesse Sr. was clearly troubled, and their son appeared drugged and needed assistance getting into bed. After a double shot of Jack Daniels, Jesse Sr. joined his wife who was nursing their new son on the bed. He owed her an explanation, as best he could provide it. And he had the literature Dr. Carlson had given him about DID/MPD for the details he could not supply.

Too tired to read the material, Mary relied on her husband's assurances that Dr. Carlson had things under control.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Friday began with Jesse walking May to the bus stop. When Leslie saw him approach without his school bag she was curious. When she saw the haggard look on his face she became alarmed. They had a few minutes before the bus arrived and Jesse asked his sister to call when she saw it coming. Then he and Leslie walked a few yards into the woods which ran alongside the road. Jesse had no chance to talk as Leslie took his hand and expressed her concern.

"What's wrong, Jess; you look terrible. Did you have a bad night?"

With his mouth twitching up into a crooked smile, he shook his head. "Nah, I had a long appointment with the head doctor last night. Dad said I needed a sedative for my migraine."

_That explains the look, but..._ "Did something go wrong?" she asked, trying to remain calm.

"Mom and Dad won't tell me much, and I have to go back this afternoon," he answered blandly. And now Leslie thought he looked more than tired; he looked defeated.

Just then May called out that the bus was coming.

Giving Jesse a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, Leslie ran off saying, "Call me when you get back tonight, ok?" The request came out more like a plea. Then she hopped on the bus and was gone.

Fighting a feeling of dread, Leslie realized she had forgotten to give Jesse _her_ good news._ Oh well, his parents will tell him_, she said to herself. May, who sat next to her as she did when Jesse wasn't there, could sense her brother's girlfriend's unease. She took Leslie's hand, without a word, and held it tightly.

At lunch, Leslie sat at their usual spot, the others talking about the typical things sixth and seventh graders gab about. Leslie, however, didn't participate. The feeling of unease from earlier in the day had become a gnawing pain. She asked Grace if she had her cell phone.

"Yeah, but we can't use it..." Grace started to say.

"I don't care...come on." Leslie jumped up and ran off, Grace followed after shrugging at the others.

Outside, a light drizzle had begun, but Grace and Leslie were shielded by an overhang above the exit.

"Let me know if anyone comes, Grace. I have to talk to Jesse."

Shaking her head, Grace played lookout while Leslie dialed the Aarons' number. There was no answer.

_Mrs. Aarons and the baby are probably sleeping, but where are Jess and his father?_

Closing the phone, she and Grace slipped back inside just as a teacher came around the corner.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Leslie was correct: Mrs. Aarons and infant Brian were sleeping soundly when she rang; Jesse and his father were heading into town. Dr. Carlson had called and wanted Jesse to come in at two o'clock instead of four. To Mr. Aarons, all that meant was that they should be home two hours earlier. But walking into Dr. Carlson's office, they were surprised to see three others present besides the expected psychiatrist and two hypnotists. They were immediately introduced to three more psychiatric physicians, one man and two women, from the University of Virginia, all professional acquaintances of Dr. Carlson.

Now feeling more like a Guinea Pig than a patient, Jess moved with the others to the next room but was instructed to recline on the couch rather than use the chair. Mr. Aarons and David Scoggins went to the observation room. Neither spoke.

The session began.

- - - - - - - - - - -

June brought with it a pleasant and welcome continuation of the moderate spring enjoyed in the Roanoke Valley, and all of southwest Virginia. The temperature seldom rose above seventy-five, and the nights were cool and dry. The daily runs Jesse and Leslie had enjoyed the year before, preparing for cross country, would have been delightful, but Leslie couldn't get up the desire to go out alone, it only made her miss Jesse more.

Over the past three weeks there had been a number of important changes in the lives of the Burke and Aarons families. Few would be considered good.

Jesse never called Leslie back on the evening of May twenty-second, but _Mary_ Aarons called Judy Burke with the news that Jesse had been admitted into the Roanoke Valley Hospital's psychiatric ward earlier that evening. Anticipating a call from her boyfriend, Leslie instead watched, first in annoyance and then in fear, as her mother spoke with their neighbor, obviously upset by something. When she finished, Judy called Leslie to her side and broke the news. Jesse had been admitted after _"Something went wrong during his therapy,"_ she said gently to her daughter. Leslie could feel the hot tears pooling in her eyes as her mother told her the rest of the report. He would be gone three to six weeks, depending on how he responded to treatment. Jesse would have to finish seventh grade over the summer unless he was discharged in time to make the exams, which, Judy said, was not expected. But most disturbing was the news that he could have no communication with people outside his immediate family.

Judy did not tell her daughter that she had been specifically named in the list of people Jesse should not have contact with.

The following day, Leslie disobeyed her parents and waited at the Aarons' house most of the afternoon for word about her best friend. It was a particularly discouraging and lonely six hour vigil. When the family finally returned around dinner time, Mrs. Aarons invited the distraught teen in and told her what was happening.

Emphasizing the good news, Mary told her that Jesse was physically fine, he had asked about her (she had to lie about that) and he still hoped to be out of the hospital in time to finish school. But when Leslie volunteered to bring home the work he was missing, Mrs. Aarons shook her head sadly.

"That all has to be handled directly between the hospital and the school. I'm sorry, Les, I can't imagine how painful this is to you, but it's all for the best."

Completely baffled about how it could all be for the best, Leslie, nevertheless conceded and asked what was wrong with Jesse.

Hoping to explain enough to satisfy the girl, but not bring up the DID diagnosis, Mary tiptoed around the real problem. "Leslie, Dr. Carlson – Jess's psychiatrist – did not realize how...serious his problem was. Last night he was trying to reconcile things Jess was saying about his past and something went wrong." To help her understand, Mary used the same analogy Carlson had used in explaining the problem to the family. "It's like when an adult pressures you for an answer you don't want to, or aren't ready to give. If they _keep_ pressing, you might yell at them and run away. That's what seems to have happened in Jess's mind."

Leslie could do nothing but accept this, at least for the present.

"Thanks, Mrs. Aarons. You'll let me know when I can see Jess, won't you?"

- - - - - - - - - - -

Two weeks later, Leslie and her father came down with a violent stomach and intestinal flu.

Mary Aarons offered to let Judy stay with them until the family was better. But it didn't matter, later that day Judy also became ill.

That same afternoon she lost the baby. The mother, husband, and daughter were taken to the hospital while Mary took care of Jimmy who, thankfully, remained unaffected. Judy's sister would arrive later that evening to take over. While Judy underwent a D&C to remove the dead foetus, Bill and Leslie began treatment for coliform bacteria in their well water. Never suspecting their water supply to be contaminated, they only made the connection when Judy, normally a bottled water drinker, used the well water the day before she became ill.

With their treatment underway, all three were much improved the next day but still needed to stay a second night due to dehydration. On the surface, Judy was stoic about losing the baby; her husband and daughter took it much harder. And Leslie was bitter and lonely, in the same ward she had been in a little over two years earlier. Upset about her mother losing the baby six months into the term, and almost equally unhappy about Jesse being only three floor above her yet absolutely unreachable, she began to feel depression set in. Even the other kids in the ward, altogether a friendly group, could not cheer her.

The only highlight of the day was when Leslie's Aunt Joan spent time with her. Seeing Jimmy cheered her greatly, too, and she played with him under her bed covers until his happy squeals began to wake sleeping patients. Joan left with a promise to return later that day.

Before her aunt's second visit, Grace and Tom Jacobs arrived bringing flowers and cheering her more, but even that was short-lived. After visiting for only a few minutes, it was easy for Leslie to see something was bothering them. Both were unusually quiet, even Grace. Leslie began to suspect it might be their conspicuously absent mother; she had noticed Mr. Jacobs' dejected look almost as soon as they arrived. But before she could ask either what was happening, their father received a page and they all had to leave.

The Burkes were all released Sunday morning and stopped at a nearby mortuary to collect the ashes of the cremated unborn girl. When Leslie heard the gender, another wave of sadness threatened to overtake her. The ride home was long and cheerless, and her parents spoke little.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The first full week of June started the following day and Leslie awoke with high hopes Jesse _might_ be released from the hospital by the upcoming weekend, the earliest time Mrs. Aarons had told her it could happen. Riding to school with May that sunny June morning, Leslie was feeling happier than she had in what seemed to be a very long time. May was particularly cheery, classes flew by – not a usual occurrence for a Monday – her favorite lunch was served, (taco salad,) and the after-school track and field practice went well. She sorely missed having Jesse around when she ran, but it felt good to participate, even if she wasn't at one hundred percent yet.

All the positive things that had happened that Monday, however, vanished when her father picked her up from practice.

"Les, Mrs. Jacobs died Saturday," he said as soon as her door shut, looking far more troubled than he had when breaking the news about losing the baby. Then she remembered: She had seen neither Tom nor Grace that day, and they _never_ missed school.

"What happened?" asked Leslie, barely able to speak.

"I'm not sure, Les. The church called Mary Aarons and she called us."

Leslie couldn't help but feel for her two friends and wondered if their mother's odd behavior at Jesse's birthday was a symptom of a serious problem. But what troubled her nearly as much as the death was the idea that the family might move away. She had grown close to Grace, especially over the past six months, and Tom was a good friend to both herself and Jesse.

"Dad, can you run me over there tonight? I'm sure Grace and Tom would like some company."

Her father agreed and went a step further, calling from his cell phone, he spoke with Mr. Jacobs saying he was stopping by with dinner. A lifeless voice on the other end didn't object. Leslie and her father stopped briefly at home for the girl to rinse off and change, then sped off to the Boston Market in Boxley. Forty minutes later, about 6 o'clock, they arrived.

Grace and Tom were sitting on the front steps and smiled cheerlessly when their friend appeared. Grace stood and accepted a long embrace from her friend; half-way through she broke down in sobs. Leslie maneuvered Grace back down to the step and sat next to her. Tom, not speaking a word, continued to stare straight ahead, even when Leslie rubbed his back to let him know she was there for him, too.

"What….what happened?" asked Leslie hesitantly, when Grace had calmed down.

"She…Mom had an aneurism in her brain."

"She died instantly," added Tom, speaking for the first time.

"Was she in the hospital Saturday when you came to visit me?"

Grace sobbed but quickly regained her composure. "Yes, she woke up that morning dizzy and numb on her left side. We called the doctor and he said we should take her to Roanoke. She died right after lunch…it looked like…like…she went to sleep." The girl again broke down, but this time turned to her brother for comfort. His eyes were running tears, too, as he held his sister.

"I'll be right back," Leslie promised. She went inside and found her father speaking with Mr. Jacobs in the kitchen. Bill was preparing the dinner they'd brought, even though no one looked hungry.

Leslie expressed her condolences and asked if there was anything she could do, but Mr. Jacobs shook his head, saying nothing.

Tuesday, Mary Aarons informed Judy that the funeral would be the follow morning and asked if she would like to attend. To her surprise (and delight) Judy said the whole family would be there.

Wednesday dawned, and Leslie thought she would never have rather been in school more than at that moment. She dressed in her best clothes and then took Jimmy while her parents got ready. The service started at ten, the Burkes arrived about fifteen minutes ahead of time and found most of the Aarons family present, also. Including Jesse. Leslie was stunned to see him looking so pale; his face seemed thinner, too. She was debating if she should – or even was allowed to – speak with him. But then Grace approached and asked Leslie to sit with their family at the service. Her parents nodded that it would be fine. With one brief glance back to Jesse, their eyes met and she thought she might have seen him smile briefly, and then he was gone.

Leslie sat at the end of the front pew with Grace next to her, holding her hand tightly, almost painfully. Tom, looking more stunned than anything else, sat motionless but would occasionally take his sister's other hand and give it a squeeze. Mr. Jacobs processed in with the casket and sat next to his son.

Now familiar with the Catholic Sunday Mass rituals, Leslie found little difference in the Mass of the Resurrection of the Dead. One of Mrs. Jacobs' older siblings gave a moving eulogy just before the service ended. It was filled with both touching and humorous stories from the woman's life, and by watching Grace's and Tom's reactions Leslie could tell they were storing in their memory a small bit of their mother with each anecdote.

A reception at the Jacobs' house followed the interment, and Leslie found she wanted to be there for Grace more than anything else. The two sat together, talking quietly and munching now and then on celery stalks.

"I saw Jess at the service, Grace. Did you see him?"

"No…I wasn't looking around too much," she admitted. It was true; she had spent almost the entire service looking down.

"Why don't we find him? He's probably here somewhere," said Leslie cheerfully.

Grace shot Leslie an irritated look, but eventually sighed in resignation as the older girl led her around. Most of the guests were outside, it was another superb June day; one of many such days that had been filled with blue sky and dry, gentle breezes. Grace commented that she imagined Jesus had been resurrected on a day like this one. But while Leslie was now familiar with the Man and His story of eternal life, she felt ill-qualified to comment on it.

The girls soon found Mrs. Aarons and most of her children, but Mr. Aarons and Jesse, they learned, had returned to the hospital following the burial. The looks of disappointment on both girls' faces touched Mrs. Aarons and she assured them he would be home soon, and was doing much better. Leslie's heart leapt with the news, but she tried to conceal it.

Leslie ended up spending most of the rest of the day with Grace. Neither spoke much, but the older girl's presence meant a lot to the now motherless child. They spent time in Grace's room or outside walking about. Tom would join them now and again; he appeared particularly stressed by the situation.

Bill Burke picked his daughter up late in the afternoon and they went straight home where she was handed the baby so her mother could get dinner together. Melancholy seemed to again take over as Leslie sat on the family room floor automatically making block castles for her little brother to knock down, something he did with great alacrity and accompanying shouts of joy. Her thoughts kept returning to the Jacobs and her fear they would leave Lark Creek.

"Some places hold memories too painful to be near, eh Jimmy?" she asked her brother, not even realizing she had spoken aloud.

"What was that, sweetheart?" asked Judy. She had been in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her children.

Without warning, Leslie suddenly found herself engulfed in a pool of lonesomeness. Its overbearing, all-encompassing, smothering presence seemed to make it hard to breathe. She could do nothing to stop the tears that were again falling freely. Covering her mouth did nothing to muffle the sobs wracking her slender frame. She sensed her mother sit next to her and felt hideously guilty – her mother, just having lost her third… _no, _fourth child!

_I should be comforting her!_

A soft voice whispered in her ear, at first she thought it wasn't real: The words seemed more like what God might say to her than her mother.

"Did you hear me, sweetheart?" the voice asked, a bit louder this time.

"No, sorry."

"I said Jesse will be home Friday. His mother said he couldn't wait to see you."

This was a bit of a white lie. Judy _was_ certain the boy would be eager to see her, but the embellishment, she hoped, would cheer the girl up some.

Leslie nodded that she had heard, but her loneliness for Jesse was being trumped by the other sorrows in her life.

"Do you think the Jacobs' will stay in Lark Creek, Mom?"

"I – I just don't know, Les," said Judy, surprised her daughter hadn't spoken of Jesse's return first. Then she had an idea. "Les, why don't you invite the Jacobs to join us this summer? You and Jess are good friends with them, and it will give them something to look forward to, and maybe take their mind off of…of…you know."

Leslie responded more cheerfully at this suggestion, though she needed to think through it a little more before agreeing. "Yeah, Mom, that might be a good idea," she eventually answered, noncommittally.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The ride home from Roanoke seemed to be transporting Jesse Aarons into a foreign land. Little had changed noticeably in the three weeks he had been gone; or to be more precise, almost everything that _had_ changed was inside his head. His father spoke seldom, but that was not unusual, though Jesse wondered if it was because he would be shunned by his friends and family.

_Who wants a mentally ill friend?…brother?…son?…boyfriend?_

As sudden pang of anxiety hit Jesse like a punch in the gut. For one horrible moment he wished he was back in the psychiatric ward with all its smells and noises and cries – people grabbing him, saying completely unintelligible things to him and expecting answers – the horrid food and constant meetings with Dr. Carlson and others – even with all that, the hospital seemed better…more comfortable…safer. He could act any way he wanted and no one would think it odd.

Jesse had walked into the common room his first morning in the ward to find a man in his mid-twenties relieving his bowels on the floor and wiping himself with the curtains. The stench made him gag. He watched in horror as one of the attendants casually walked over to the man and pulled him away; he nearly tripped on his fallen drawers which were wrapped around his ankles. No warning, no reprimand, nothing: That was the hardest part, everything he was seeing, in all its degrading, disgusting, horrendous, putrid glory – it was all … _expected_.

After the first day, with its shocks and adjustments, Jesse lay in bed and found he couldn't think of Leslie…or any of his friends. He was being isolated while the mess in his head was sorted out. To discover that two years of dreams and…_whatever_ might be the result of a minute of selfishness… Jesse unconsciously shook his head in disbelief.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_The rain. It was just about the last thing he and Dr. Carlson had discovered…._

_She had asked him what he was doing Saturday and Sunday, he replied – he lied – saying he was busy. He knew she wanted to do things with him – and he wanted to do things with her - but something preoccupied his attention…someone._

_As they separated that afternoon, she smiled – that smile - and waved, and was gone into the rain…the rain. He had tried to smile back, but it didn't come out quite right and something snapped inside of him, though he didn't realize it until the next morning while riding down the drive with Ms. Edmonds: His Jesse alter first emerged, saying the first thing that came to its – to _his_ – mind: "Can Leslie come with us today?"_

_The spark of guilt had turned into a smoldering fire – feeding and warming the alters hiding in his mind - and might have consumed him to the point that he would have been lost forever. But it didn't._

_The guilt he felt, when Leslie had nearly died, had set the fire ablaze – poured gasoline on the fire, as the saying goes. Even now he felt on the verge of tears thinking back on a moment of selfishness, greed, and misdirected affection that had nearly cost him his sanity and his best friend her life._

"_Don't think of the bad, Jess; think of the good! You saved Leslie, and she rescued you," Dr. Carlson had told him just hours earlier, clamping his hand on Jesse's arm like he did when desiring to make an important point. _

"_I don't see how…" Jesse trailed off._

"_Who kept you going the past two years? Who brought out the best in you, taught you to believe in yourself, and helped you to learn to love? Who was it that kept you in control and the others…the alters…from becoming dominant?"_

"_I…guess…"_

"_No, Jess! There is no guessing. What is important is that you build on the past, learn from your mistakes, and move forward. Dwelling on Jesse and the Darkness and May and Dr. Hastings won't help you…"_

"_But they were me!"_

"_They _are_ you, son, each a little piece of Jesse Aarons. But now they'll remain in their proper place. Except the Dark Master."_

_Jesse smiled. Getting rid of _that_ alter was the best._

- - - - - - - - - - -

"You alright, Jess?" asked his father, shaking the boy out of his reverie.

"Yeah, Dad…well, I'm getting there."

More silence, but Jesse welcomed it. They were nearly home and Leslie's house would soon be visible around the next curve in the road. He found himself thinking about her now, more than he had been able to over the past three weeks. And now, replacing the anxiety was something else entirely.

"Dad, would it be alright…could I stop by and say hi to Les before coming home?"

"Was thinking you might want that, son," laughed his father, braking hard and skidding a bit on the gravel. "Don't be too long, Jess, everyone wants to see you."

With no further words, Jesse jumped out and barely had time to close the door before his father drove off. He looked up and nearly stumbled. Leslie was sitting on her front porch steps, smiling, waiting for him. She jumped up and sprinted across the lawn, her face almost unreadable, but the one obvious image he could recognize was acceptance.

She stopped a few steps short of him.

"Hey, you're back!"

"Yeah, or most of me, I guess," he kidded a bit awkwardly. "Dr. Carlson said I left a few marbles in Roanoke."

A look of horror transfigured Leslie's face. "_HE DIDN'T_…Did he?"

Jesse laughed. "No, but it's not a bad analogy when you…hey - what…oomph."

Leslie had thrown herself at him, sending both to the ground and knocking the wind out of Jesse. He was beginning to think they were getting too old for this little ritual of theirs. Judy and Bill Burke watched with guarded amusement from their kitchen window.

"What was that for?" Jesse grumbled good-naturedly, after all, not everything he was feeling was pain.

"I – I don't know. It just seemed the right thing to do to you," replied the girl, suddenly blushing and rolling off her boyfriend.

Laughing, Jesse jumped up and helped Leslie to her feet. Then his face fell.

"I can't stay, Dad wants me home," he said glumly.

"Yeah, I figured. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow…what?"

"Hike up to Mr. Boone's place?"

Jesse groaned. "Do you have any idea how much studying I have to do for exams?"

Leslie's heart felt like it would stop. "Oh…"

"You can quiz me," he offered, smiling slyly.

"You're on! Oh, and I have a surprise for you," said Leslie, taking his hand and walking alongside him, towards his house.

"A surprise? I like surprises…most of the time," he added, smiling.

"You'll like this one, I promise."

END of PART 3

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: So, it_ _was all in his head, as_ _they say. Not long after starting Part 1, I realized it was a mistake to add an element of Science Fiction into the story. With that error now excised, Part 4 will cover the summer before eighth grade and the school year itself. Look forward to new adventures, friends, and feelings._

_The rather shocking scene in the hospital common room came from personal experience and is true and accurate in its entirely. However, it did not happen at any Roanoke hospital. And I should point out that my Roanoke Valley Hospital is a creation for use in this story alone. If there is a RVH, the story above should not reflect at all upon their facility, it was purely coincidental._

_As always, thank you for reading, especially those of you who have left comments._

_IHateSnakes  
__17 October 2007_


	25. Part 4: The Recovery

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 25 – The Recovery**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Jesse trod carefully on the narrow ledge that ran along the side of the shallow canyon, now and then looking back to make sure the others hadn't slipped, or panicked, or frozen in place. He wasn't worried about Grace, but Tom was prone to acute panic attacks for the silliest reasons – not that a fifteen-foot fall down a seventy-degree slope into a bed of rocks was silly. So he and Leslie sandwiched their friends between them: Himself first, followed by Tom, then his sister, with Leslie bringing up the rear. It really was pointless, any way Jesse looked at it: If one of them fell there would be nothing gained by trying to help, other than falling along with them.

"Just pretend, Jess," whispered Leslie, exasperatedly, before setting out. "It will give them confidence."

Grumbling, he had led them off minutes earlier.

The first weekend after school finished, Jesse and Leslie had hiked to Mr. Boone's cabin and spent a few hours with the old man, listening to more of his stories and his repeated thanks for the Christmas gift they'd left months earlier. He told them it had been a pleasantly quiet winter and spring, though he had expected to see more of them. The kids both had stories of their own to tell, explaining their long absence. Mr. Boone nodded sagely with each exploit, commiserating when appropriate. Both Jesse and Leslie found that talking about the deaths and illnesses of the previous six months made them feel better.

When they told of their friends' mother passing, Mr. Boone insisted they bring them up on their next trip and show them the canyon, an offer that surprised both of them: Mr. Boone had made it clear that he was jealously secretive about his favorite secluded spot. They thanked him and the following weekend Grace and Tom Jacobs joined them for the long hike into the mountains.

It was an exceptionally odd outing, too. Jesse and Leslie had never done it with anyone else. There were spots where the two friends had stopped many times the year before and sat together, special places, places just for them. Now others knew of them. When they reached the small hill just short of the cabin, Jesse felt like it was being violated. He knew he was being selfish, but didn't care. It was a pattern he had fallen into in the weeks since his release from the hospital; he and Leslie had been inseparable, _making up for lost time_ Leslie would say when her mother asked if she was heading to see Jesse, again.

Leslie herself showed no signs of annoyance (except towards Jesse) on this latest hike. She walked with Grace while Tom meandered back and forth between the girls and her more-quiet-than-usual boyfriend. However, Jesse did eventually open up and pointed out spots they had come to enjoy. Still hurting from the loss of their mother, the Jacobs siblings took a while to get into the spirit of the hike, but livened up measurably when they met Mr. Boone and heard of the canyon beyond.

So off they had set, into the secret canyon, as secret, and nearly as special to Mr. Boone as Terabithia had been to Jesse and Leslie years before. Around every turn, Grace would cry out in wonder at the scenery. At every stop, Tom would nose around, picking at the mountain flora; he had begun to show an interest in botany in seventh grade and cursed a few times when he found a particularly interesting plant which he could not bring home because he had brought nothing to keep a clipping of it in.

Upon reaching the end of the narrow path, and marching the last few yards around the giant boulders, the Jacobs froze, just as their escorts had done a year earlier. Mr. Boone's carved seat was to their left. The pool of clear, cold, creek-fed mountain water on their right. The large swampy-meadow was before them and the canyon behind.

Jesse and Leslie dropped their backpacks and took off the shoes and socks, placing their feet in the icy-cold pond, a little hesitantly at first - the first stabs of cold paining them like fire. Grace followed a minute later, but Tom took off towards the swamp, cursing his forgetfulness again between murmurs of astonishment.

After a while, lunch was unpacked and the kids sat in a circle, eating and talking. Leslie caught Jesse's attention and gave him a knowing look: It was the first time in weeks Tom and Grace had shown so much delight with anything.

"What's beyond the swamp back there?" asked Tom, peeling a banana he'd brought for dessert.

"We don't know. We haven't had a chance to go farther than this. We'd probably need to overnight it, we're about nine miles from my house right now."

"Jeez, Jess, no wonder my legs are sore."

"No, that's just because you're lazy, Tommy," his sister quipped to Leslie, but her brother heard it and threw the banana peel at her.

End of the school year gossip carried them through lunch and Tom and Grace's moods improved further. The hottest topic between Grace and Leslie, full of hushed whispers and silly giggles reminiscent of Jesse's birthday party, was that Mikey Sellers had been talking daily to one of the Silliard twins and would ask her out any day.

"Did he go to the dance with her?" Tom asked Leslie, showing little more than polite interest in the topic.

"I wasn't there, remember?"

"Oh, yeah...Gracie, did they go to the dance together?"

"All three were there. Lisa and Carol dressed identically and teased Mikey until he lost his temper. It was funny."

But Leslie, while interested in Mikey's antics, found more interest in what her young friend had said.

"Grace," she asked, smiling smugly, "how did _you_ get into the dance? You'd have to be invited by a seventh grader."

The younger girl's face colored while her brother and Jesse rolled their eyes and banefully shook their head at the entire subject. They never did find out how Grace got into the dance.

This small talk went on for a while until it was time to head home. But there was one other thing planned. Leslie looked at Jesse, an unspoken message passed between the two: It was time.

"Um, Tom," said Jesse, "has your father decided what you're going to do? I mean, are you guys staying, or... you know... moving away?"

Right from the start, it was obvious this was the wrong topic to bring up. Both Jacobs' siblings scowled, though Tom much more so.

"Don't know. He changes his mind every freaking day," he snarled, obviously angry with his father's indecision.

"Shut up, Tommy, he does not," Grace snapped, having gone from cheerful to tearful in seconds.

Leslie touched Grace's arm softly, but the girl pulled away. Sighing, Leslie continued, "If your father knew what you two want it might help him make a decision. _Do_ you two know what you want to do?"

Both answered at the same time: Grace said stay; Tom said leave.

"That's not going to work," chuckled Jesse, trying to ease the awkward moment. But the other boy exploded.

"_No shit, Jess! What an amazing piece of logic that was._" Tom jumped to his feet, backing away from the other three and trying comically, but unsuccessfully, to put a sock on as he moved.

"_Tommy!_" Grace cried out again, she'd seen his temper lately and knew what to expect.

"_What, Gracie?"_ her brother snarled, finally giving up on the other sock and throwing it at no one in particular._ "Any way it works, one of us gets screwed. Why the hell do you want to stay in Lark Creek anyway?" _He paused, looking at his sister and ignoring her imploring expression._ "Hoping _Jess_ might dump _Leslie" The words were hardly out of his mouth and the other three froze. Tom turned and stomped away, one sock on, the other having landed in the pond. They could tell by watching his back that he was crying.

"I guess that wasn't such a good idea," muttered Leslie to herself, then to Jesse: "You want to go after him or should I?"

Jesse looked at Leslie, then at the other girl. "You go. I have to talk with Grace."

Leslie slipped her sneakers on and ran off in the direction their friend had gone.

Grace looked up at Jesse, her eyes wet. "It's not true, Jess, what Tom said. I mean, I like you and all that, but... He's been _really_ mad lately, saying things that aren't true. I guess it makes him feel better."

"Uh-huh," said Jesse, looking doubtfully at the girl. "You sure?"

Grace, to Jesse's surprise, broke out in sniffle-filled laughter. "_Yes!_ I think _I_ would know. Besides... I'm... oh, never mind. Here come Les and Tommy."

Dropping the subject was fine with Jesse, he had no real wish to discuss any touchy-feely topics with another girl; it was difficult enough with Leslie. And besides, she had given him the answer he wanted to hear.

The walk home was long and quiet, this time Jesse and Leslie walked together. Grace and Tom, trailing far behind and barely in view, brought up the rear. When they arrived back at the Aarons' house, it was nearly six o'clock and Mr. Jacobs was waiting inside, chatting with Jesse's parents. The kids came in quietly – too quietly, pretty much ignoring each other. It was an uncomfortable few minutes before Mr. Aarons walked the Jacobs out. Only Leslie and Grace gave each other a little wave goodbye.

"Jess?" said his mother as soon as the front door was closed. "What happened?"

Leslie sat self-consciously on the couch hoping Jesse would join her. He didn't.

"Um, Tom's still upset, and he and Grace got into a fight about, um, stuff." He wouldn't look his mother in the eyes.

"'_Stuff?'_ What sort of _stuff_?" she demanded. Brian whined, sensing his mother's displeasure.

Jesse sputtered, somewhat incomprehensibly, for half a minute before Leslie cut in and told what had happened. Jess stood silently, avoiding eye contact with his mother. When the whole story was out, Mrs. Aarons handed Brian to Ellie, who happened to be walking by, and pointed to the couch. They all sat.

"Kids, you're going to have to be a little more sensitive than _that_ around Grace and Tom for a while. I know, Jess," said his mother, raising her hand, seeing him about to protest, "neither of you meant any harm. But whether the Jacobs stay or leave is up to them and you...both of you, have no cause to push them into a decision. Next to losing _both_ parents, those children have probably experienced the most terrible thing that could happen to them."

Mrs. Aarons stood and sighed, and then walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. When she returned she was more relaxed.

"Mr. Jacobs came by a little early to tell us he's decided to stay through the end of his... oh, what did he call it...? His assignment. The Navy offered to move him back to Norfolk, but he doesn't want to uproot the kids right now. So all your nagging was for naught." She smiled a little. "They'll be here another two years, so try to make them welcome, especially if Tom isn't happy about the decision."

After a light dinner, Jesse walked Leslie home. Both were a little abashed by their failed attempt to push their friends.

"Guess we didn't think it through enough, eh?" Jesse said, his voice carrying a hint of guilt.

"Guess not."

Approaching Burke's house, Jesse slowed and handed Leslie her backpack, which he had been carrying from his house. He had been distracted most of the day, with their friends around, but now, in the quiet of the evening twilight, his attention was suddenly focused completely on his girlfriend. He had noticed in the weeks since his release from the hospital that being with her was stirring new feelings inside him. He had attributed it, up until now, to his alters becoming part of himself again. Dr. Carlson told him the other day that this conclusion _could_ be correct, but it would be more likely that his body was reacting to being an adolescent.

As he passed the backpack over, their fingers locked, and in an insanely inexplicable way, Jesse felt an electric-like jolt charge up his arm and plant a myriad of colors and ideas into his brain. He had to shake it off to think clearly and say goodbye. Clumsily, he leaned over and kissed Leslie's cheek. She laughed, not a hurtful laugh, but a playful and happy one.

"Go get a shower, Aarons, you stink!" she whispered while their faces were still close. Both then broke into laughter and headed their own way.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Leslie Burke's great surprise for Jesse depended heavily on her father's ability to barter successfully with his father. The day after Jesse had been released, the Burkes had the Aarons over for dinner. When finished, Bill took Jesse Sr. out back, ostensibly to show him the new purifier for the well water.

"Say, Jesse," began Bill, "Jude and I were wondering if we could, uh, hire Brenda and Ellie for a couple weeks this summer..."

Jesse Sr. gave his neighbor an odd look and then snickered. "Ok with me, and Ellie might be interested, but if you want Brenda to _work_ for money, good luck!"

"Uh, yeah, I understand. Actually, we were wondering if they would keep house, do some light cleaning, maybe cooking..." Off Jesse Sr.'s skeptical look, Bill added, "Nothing big, grilled cheese...maybe..."

"Right. I think all those things come under the heading of 'work.'" Mr. Aarons knew his neighbor was getting to something with all this, so he played along.

"Point taken. Well, there would be an incentive involved, other than money..."

"Come on, Burke, spit it out!" said his neighbor, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. "You're planning something, I can tell."

"Yes, well, we're wondering if you, I mean, your whole family, would like to join us at the beach for a week in late July. I know it's a little late to be asking, but with all that's happened the past few weeks... What's so funny?"

Jesse Sr. was chuckling at his neighbor's obvious anxious state. "You are, Bill. What do the girls have to do with all this?"

"Uh, we knew... well, if you want to go we'll rent a large house and... I know how you would be upset if you felt we were..." No matter how much he tried, Bill couldn't help but be intimidated by his much larger, much more gruff neighbor.

"You thought I'd be more inclined to accept if the girls agreed to help out around the house. Ok, I can go for that, but whether you get your money's worth is up to you and them. So where is this place, and when? I probably won't be able to stay the week, and I doubt Ellie can get that much time off from work…"

With the tension broken, the two men sat at the picnic table and discussed the details of the offer. Jesse would be welcome to stay both weeks, and Judy's sister and her family might join, too. And with a few other concessions to let the Aarons assist with chores, Jesse Sr. agreed on the plan and returned to the house to break the news to his family. Jesse Jr. already knew what was going on, but tried to look surprised. When Mr. Aarons presented the offer to his family there was more of a stunned silence than anything else. It had been years since they had vacationed together and the offer seemed too good to be true.

"What's wrong with y'all?" their father snarled. "Don't want to go to the beach and get out of this mosquito pit?"

Seeing that the offer was in earnest, the Aarons children began shouting and asking questions and acting more like a normal family would when presented with such an opportunity. Even Brenda appeared interested. Ellie expressed doubt that she would be able to take the entire week off. Otherwise, the younger children – especially May who had never been to a real beach – showed their delight and thanked Mr. and Mrs. Burke profusely.

The next hour was spent checking schedules and making arrangements. The Burkes needed to contact the realtor as soon as possible to ensure a house big enough to hold two families. But their concerns were unnecessary: The unfortunate downturn in the economy since the terrorist bomb in Washington was preventing the high-end rentals from being booked up, even in July and August, so they had a good choice of places to stay. Bill and Judy, however, would not let the Aarons see this final choice. This was a little bit of duplicity on their part, but neither wanted their neighbor to rethink the offer when he saw the house they finally decided on. Leslie showed it to Jesse that evening and watched his eyes bulge.

"Nice, isn't it?" she said, leaning over his shoulder and gently pressing her face to the side of his head. Jesse's concentration on the house was instantly lost as his girlfriend's breath tickled his ear. He just nodded in response.

"You like it, Jess?" Leslie's father asked, having just walked into the room as his daughter was wrapping her arms around Jesse's neck.

"Yeah…!" His response seemed to be more appropriate to Leslie's action than her father's question.

"Yes, I can see you do," Mr. Burke chuckled.

Annoyed, Leslie sighed and released Jesse, but it took the boy another few seconds to think clearly.

"Yes, sir..._it's incredible_. It has a pool, too?"

"Yep," said Mr. Burke, looking through a pile of unsorted mail in the roll-top desk. "If the ocean's too cold or the jellyfish are out you can still swim. You see the hot tub?"

Jesse eagerly turned his attention back to the computer and clicked on the _Next Picture_ button; he saw a beautiful screened-in structure with a large wooden tub in the middle. The view was unbelievable. With the house just a hundred yards from the edge of the beach, there were no other buildings blocking the view. There was a long wooden walkway from the pool, up the dunes, to the tub.

"_WOW!_" he exclaimed again.

"Yes, I think it's rather spiffy," finished Bill in a poor English accent, leaving the room with whatever it was he had been searching for.

The kids looked at the pictures of the property a while longer and then got up to go outside. But something caught Jesse's eye just as he was about to close the browser window. It was the weekly rate for the house. He was stunned. Quickly doing the math in his head, he realized that two weeks in the beach house was more than his family paid in a year for the mortgage on their home. He wow'd again, quietly this time, and followed Leslie outside.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The weeks between the news of the beach trip and the trip itself seemed to drag interminably. The pleasant spring the area had enjoyed for almost four months suddenly evaporated and the more typical hot and humid southern Virginia weather took over. Even the slightly cooler mountain air helped little. Daily afternoon thunderstorms, however, brought much needed relief to the area, not temperature-wise, but by helping to break the three-year drought most of the east coast had been experiencing. The rain also brought new hope to struggling farmers who, in turn, helped farming-related businesses in Roanoke. This boon further filtered down to Jesse Aarons Sr. As the farmers needed new or more machinery, the sales at his John Deere dealer rose, and much needed sales commissions followed.

Never having earned what he felt was sufficient to be proud of his salary; Jesse Sr. knew that leaving for a week of vacation in the busiest part of the sales season would be illogical and financially counter-productive, in the grossest sense. He broke this news to his wife the week before the holiday was to start; she wasn't surprised. Mary also understood her husband's need to feel proud of his earnings, and he did promise to spend the first weekend with them, although it amounted to but a few hours between the long car journeys.

Jesse and Leslie resumed their morning runs as soon as school had finished, and it was one of the ways to pass the time while waiting for the July trip to the beach. The only difficult part of this time they spent together had to do with the additional height Jesse, and Leslie to a lesser extent, had gained since November. He was just under five-eleven, and she was approaching five-five. And at their age, both could count on at least a couple more inches of growth through adolescence. It did, however, make running together difficult. After the first trying week, when Jesse was burning off the extra weight he'd put on from a mostly sedentary winter and spring, and Leslie could tease him for his slowness, his muscles began to tune up and it was he who had to slow down for his partner.

Three or four miles was their usual distance in 2008, but they found it easy to pace themselves for as much as six miles by mid-July. The extra miles took them through heretofore-unknown areas around Lark Creek, including a couple newer looking townhouse and single-family home developments about a mile on the far side of town. Now and then they would take a route that brought them to the Jacobs' house, but no one was home. Shortly after the disastrous hike together, Mr. Jacobs had taken a month off from work; he, Grace, and Tom were spending most of it with the children's grandparents and other family in the Newport News area. Leslie lamented that they were not to join them at the beach, and was a bit upset that Grace had not contacted her since leaving.

Getting back into shape had become something of an obsession for Jesse in the days before the vacation. Leslie would joke him about how he was toning-up to impress girls at the beach for when he got tired of looking at her, an accusation he only answered with a crooked smile and disbelieving shake of the head. After another particularly playful comment from the girl, along the same line, Jesse stunned Leslie by narrowing his eyes and appraising her from head to foot, something he had never given even the faintest hint of doing before.

"No, don't think so, Les," said Jesse very calmly – much more calmly than he felt. That he had just, for the first time he could recall, looked at his girlfriend in that way, and it shook him a bit, too.

Inside her head, Leslie Burke's was trying desperately to figure out how to look both appreciative of the notice he paid her _and_ shocked by it. In France the previous summer, where they ran into a number of topless female bathers, Jesse had shown no "interest" apart from telling her how uncomfortable it made him. Leslie had even told her father that she would never do something like _that_ in front of Jesse; but she wasn't quite as certain about her inhibitions now. Fortunately, they had the three mile return run ahead of them for her to reflect on these ideas.

Jesse, looking and feeling a little self-conscious of his own action, pretended to stretch a bit and then took off for home before he had to say anything else.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The Aarons and Burke families arrived in Duck, North Carolina, on a hot, humid late Saturday morning the third week in July. The northern edge of Duck was newer than the rest of the barrier island town, and had houses that are more modern. But by any standard, the house the Burkes rented was staggering in beauty and conveniences. It boasted ten bedrooms, not including two master, eight baths, (four with Jacuzzis built-in,) a four-car under-the-house garage, three outdoor showers for rinsing off sand before entering. The enormous family room had a super wide-screen TV, pool and ping-pong tables, and bar. Nothing seemed to be lacking inside.

On the expansive deck was the modest pool and a small pool-house with an all-weather kitchenette and outdoor grill, a short walk over a raised wooden walkway took you to the outdoor hot tub. They even had a private, lit walk to the beach.

To the Burkes, and Jesse to some extent, the luxury was nothing new. But the other Aarons looked stunned and awed by the surroundings. Neither Jesse nor Mary had grown up with air conditioning, but their blood seemed to congeal when they stepped into the overly cooled first floor. The well-appointed kitchen appeared to have every gadget imaginable and the two refrigerators and wine cooler were completely stocked with sodas, juices, bottled water, and a variety of adult beverages. Upon seeing the beer cooler and wet bar in the game room, Jesse Sr. began to reconsider going home. Bill saw his face as he appraised the cabinet of hard liquor; he looked like a kid in a candy shop wondering which sweet to try first.

While most everyone was inside admiring the house, Jesse and Leslie had run off, hand-in-hand, to look at the beach as soon as they arrived. It seemed to draw them like a magnet. The damp salty offshore wind blowing stinging sand around their ankles gave both a feeling of coming home and brought back memories of their first vacation together. Standing atop the last dune before the brilliant-white sandy beach, they had to squint from the bright summer sun. The crash of the surf, the wind rustling the dried dune vegetation, dim, distant voices behind them and the scattered sounds of families in front all seemed to welcome them. Both adolescents stood, still holding hands, face into the wind and eyes closed, soaking in the moment.

Leslie felt Jesse move, almost imperceptibly, and turned to see him looking at her.

"What?" she asked, smiling widely.

Jesse slowly shook his head, smiling back. It was that feeling again: New, overpoweringly strong, but still not definable, except that it had to do with Leslie. And himself.

His eyes moved from her face to the side of her head where the wind was blowing her hair away from the old scar. Releasing Leslie's hand, Jesse brought his up and touched it, running his finger down an inch to the spot where it disappeared behind her right ear. He had never touched it before; he'd had no reason or desire to. He still had no reason, but now he had a desire to investigate it. It was a curiosity, a symbol of something special between them. A commonality that bound them together.

Leslie was more than startled by the touch. Part of it was the sensitivity of the scar, so powerful at times it hurt to brush her hair. But it was also Jesse, and the way he had been changing since he was released from the hospital. Before he got sick, she knew, he would _never_ have done that to her. They had hardly even kissed since his birthday, but that, Leslie had reasoned, was because they were seldom together. And even when the musical was finished, _she_ was off catching up with schoolwork, and then _he_ was in the hospital. One thing after another had come between them, until he was released.

_He wasn't really_ _different_, she believed. _It was more like he was….catching up to me, emotionally_. Her mother had said that Jesse, at times, might seem a little different, but she refused to elaborate, always telling her that it was Jesse's business and she should ask him. Besides, Judy Burke didn't know the whole story, either. It frustrated the thirteen year old to no end; she wasn't going to ask him about the hospital, at least not yet.

In the weeks before the beach, Leslie had noted many subtle changes in her boyfriend. He seemed more open to physical contact, but also acted as if he were afraid of it at the same time. It was two steps forward and then one step back. Or two steps back. Of course, holding hands, hugging, and the (very) occasional kiss over a month were not enough to judge by, but it was all Leslie had. So when she felt his touch on her scar, a great deal of confusion was mixed in with the pleasant sensation his finger brought out.

Leslie turned and cocked her head a little so he could access it better, and was rewarded by feeling his rough finger gently follow the scar down...

She shivered involuntarily and Jesse pulled his hand away, thinking he was annoying her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bother..."

Leslie turned and quickly took the hand that had been touching her seconds before. "Jess, be quiet! It wasn't bothering me... honest. It's just, uh, sensitive."

"Oh... ok."

Silence returned and the two friends set their eyes back on the ocean, scanning for dolphins, boats, rafts, swimmers: All the things that made the beach the beach.

Then he was touching the same spot again. She saw out of the corner of her eye the same curious look on his face.

_At least_ _I didn't jump this time!_ Leslie thought, satisfied.

She tilted her head again to give him better access, guessing it was the appropriate thing to do. There was no doubt that it wasn't bothering her in the least. In fact, Leslie realized, it didn't hurt, it felt...good. _Very_ good, as it sent shivers down her body.

Back in the house, Mary Aarons was holding two month old Brian and Judy was struggling to keep nine month old Jimmy calm while she and Mary checked out the sleeping arrangements. There were enough rooms for everyone to have their own, though Leslie had told her mother she would love to have May share with her, much to the delight of the ten-year-old. She told Mary about this.

"That sounds good." Then with a devious grin she added, "I suppose we should be happy Leslie didn't asked for Jess as a roommate."

"Oh, God, Mary," Judy cringed, "it'll happen soon enough."

Mary Aarons thought this was a particularly odd comment, especially coming from her friend, the same person who, the previous year, had all but forbid her daughter from kissing Jesse. She was about to reply when she looked out the window to the beach where Jesse and Leslie were standing. Judy walked up beside her.

"Cute, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Mary sighed, and then nearly dropped the baby. "Jude?"

But Judy Burke didn't need Mary to draw her attention to the kids. In a typically inexperienced and awkward teenage move, Jesse had leaned over and kissed Leslie. That wasn't what startled the boy's mothers, it was _where_ he had kissed her.

"Oh...my, did your son just do what I think he did?"

Ignoring the implied blame, Mary said yes.

"I guess that settles the question of them rooming together."

"Come on, Jude, let's go… look at the ocean," said Mary, her tone indicating the water had little to do with what she wanted to check out. Her friend followed, handing Jimmy to her husband who was in the next room playing with a TV remote.

"_Jesse!_ Why did you _do_ that?" said Leslie, ducking and nearly falling over the boardwalk railing, but much more from shock and the disturbingly large jolt of adrenaline shooting through her body, than because she was upset with the kiss behind her ear.

For his part, Jesse looked astonished, partly because of what he had done, but mostly because of the reaction it had brought out.

"Sorry, Les...I...I..."

"No, Jess, it's ok, really," said Leslie, as quickly and reassuringly as she could. "It just shocked the heck out of me." She went to hug him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, backing away half a step.

"Yes! Come here." They embraced, but Leslie could tell something had been lost between them by her reaction. And then there was no more time to think about it, her mother and Mrs. Aarons were coming out to see what they were up to, even though Leslie knew they were trying to look completely nonchalant and their appearance coincidental.

"Come on in kids, we're assigning rooms and have to unpack the cars," Jesse's mother said, barely a touch of pique in her voice.

With a brief parting gaze, both adolescents looked back at the ocean, each looking forward to seeing it again soon.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Jess, Dr. Carlson warned you about this. Do you have these impulses often?"

"No, Mom, not too much now. I think, maybe, just being around Les so much made me do it."

"Son," his father spoke up for the first time. "It's not that what you did was wrong. It's normal for you to want to show Leslie your affection, especially after the past few months."

"You father's right, Jess. I overreacted, running out there with Mrs. Burke. It's just that kissing a girl like that is...not something parents of a thirteen year old expect. It was more intimate than I think either of you realized. Am I right?"

Jesse nodded silently, feeling more stupid than anything else. And his mother was completely on target. Dr. Carlson had spent much of the last week counseling him on integrating the Jesse alter into his own personality. It was as if a person with eighteen more years of worldly experience had been injected into his thoughts and actions.

_No_, Jesse recalled, _it's not that the Jesse alter actually _had_ more experience, it's that it processed everything Jess knew _as _if he had lived another eighteen years_._ Even the Jesse alter's notion of intimacy was absurdly prudish and rigid – just about what a thirteen year old Catholic boy's might be._

It was a subtle but important difference.

The first day back from the hospital Jesse knew he had changed. It had not happened because he stepped out of the facility and into the outdoors, but because the carefully regulated environment he'd been in for twenty-one days was gone. The way he looked at things was...altered. Not grossly so, but it would take getting use to. And with Leslie, it seemed to stick out more. He had been aware of, and familiar with, the relatively low level of physical intimacy they shared, but when they spent their first full day together in weeks he found his mind playing tricks. Her smile evoked a stronger reaction than it ever had before. Her touch was more distracting. The kiss she gave him when they parted that evening, though brief and chaste, nearly caused him to seize with..._shame_.

When he shared this with Carlson, the doctor told him it was likely one of two things: Raging adolescent hormones – _the simple explanation_ - or the partly developed _conscience_ of the Jesse alter that was making him process his morals as if a thirty-year-old man getting frisky with a thirteen-year-old girl should – _the more complicated explanation_. (And it was an idea that turned Jesse's stomach.)

The Friday before the two families left for the beach, Jesse had asked Dr. Carlson about what he should be _feeling_ toward Leslie. He was answered with a question:

"You tell me, Jess. What _do_ you feel for her?"

"I feel like she died and came back to life. I feel like...like I want to do things with her, but I'm ashamed..."

"No, Jess. I didn't ask what you felt like doing. I asked what you _feel_ for her. Try again."

It was terribly frustrating to explain what he _felt_ for his best friend. He knew he loved her, like a friend, but more, and in ways he couldn't understand or voice. He knew he wanted to be with her more than anyone else. He tried to explain this to the doctor but was stopped again.

"You started off on the right path, Jess, but then fell back into 'doing things.' Don't tell me about an action, tell me about a feeling. Feelings are emotions, those non-concrete ideas and sensations that swirl around in that head of yours when you think about her."

Jesse sat for a moment trying to understand the question better.

"Feelings, Jess: When I say _content_, what do you think of?"

"Warm, but not like temperature warm..." He trailed off, thinking about snuggling with Leslie on his couch one cold Friday night the previous winter. His smile gave the answer away to the doctor.

"Good, Jess. Sometimes we simply _can't_ vocalize a feeling, but I'll bet you associate _content_ with that image in your mind that made you smile. Let's try another. If I say satisfaction, what comes to your mind?"

"Um, the way I feel when pleasing people or finishing something."

"Alright, good. Now contentment and satisfaction are two positive feelings. Let's try one more. If I say incomplete, what do you think about?"

Jesse had cried a lot over the past few weeks, but he was totally unprepared for the intense emotion that flooded his mind and heart as he contemplated _that_ word. It brought him back, instantly, to fifth grade and the time before he knew Leslie. He blinked rapidly and sniffled.

"I was incomplete...before...," he managed to get out before covering his face and breaking down completely.

Carlson smiled and spoke gently, trying to temper Jesse's innocent admission of where Leslie fit in his life while also acknowledging the validity of his feeling. "Yes, Jess, you were incomplete. But don't run off picking out curtains with her. You're going to meet many people in your life who fill in important missing pieces of Jesse Aarons. It just happens that Leslie filled in a huge one. Who filled in another?"

Jesse sniffled again, collected himself, and wiped his nose noisily on the sleeve of his shirt in a manner that made his doctor cringe. And he felt a little perplexed. Did the doctor know about some friend or benefactor mysteriously guiding his life from the shadows?

"Jess, who _recently_ made you a little...maybe a lot, _less_ incomplete?"

"Oh," he laughed, having missed the obvious. "Jesse, um, the Jesse alter, I mean."

"That's right. He brought _BACK_ to you something you had shut out. Remember how you told me about wanting affection from your father. How he would hug and kiss May but ignore you? When you didn't get the affection and physical contact you so desperately wanted, your mind cast aside much of your desire for it, and that desire ended up in the Jesse alter, and it's that desire which is a part of you again. Another thing you have to get used to."

Moving his chair closer to the patient, Dr. Carlson finished by encouraging the boy. "Son, don't be ashamed about showing physical affection, especially to people you love. Touch has fallen by the wayside in our society, to a tragic degree. Don't let that happen to you." Then the doctor looked up, smiling widely. "But don't go telling your parent I gave you permission to take liberties with that girlfriend of yours."

Jesse felt the blood rushing to his face and neck with embarrassment.

- - - - - - - - - - -

After the cars were unpacked, the rooms assigned, lunch eaten, house rules agreed upon, strict swimming rules laid out and agreed upon, the parents sent everyone off to the beach. Ellie and Brenda didn't bother changing; the older girls nearly fell over each other trying to get to the water first. Comically, they returned a couple minutes later searching for flip-flops and complaining of sand burning their feet.

Jesse, having intentionally shut himself away in his room after speaking with his parents, reappeared. He found Leslie holding Jimmy in the huge kitchen.

"Hey, Les... want to go down to the beach...with me?"

Leslie smiled. "Sure! Let me get changed...or are we just walking?"

"Let's go in...If that's ok with you?"

"'K...you changing, or wearing that into the water," asked Leslie, pointing to his cut-offs.

"Oh, yeah," said Jesse sheepishly, running off to unpack his suit.

Five minutes later they met on the deck by the pool. The ninety-nine degree temperature, one hundred percent humidity, and relentlessly beating sun was practically a physical blow after the chilly indoor air, so they moved into the shade provided by the house and started applying suntan lotion. Still annoyed with himself for his earlier action, and a little ashamed of his boldness, Jesse walked around, avoiding his friend, while applying the lotion to his arms, legs, and face. He knew, however, that he would have to physically face her eventually, but also feared he would gawk like a pervert seeing her in a bathing suit.

Shortly she called him over and he walked to her, his head looking down. But Leslie gave every indication that nothing awkward had happened between them and simply turned her back to him, holding her hair off her shoulders. Jesse was happy to see her wearing a one-piece. It still showed a lot more of her body than he'd seen in a while, but neither did it panic him.

When he finished, Jesse automatically turned his back to her and she returned the favor.

"God it's hot out here," griped Leslie, taking Jesse's hand like she always had when a little impatient with him.

Even with sandals and flip-flops, their feet still became uncomfortably hot when they stepped off the walkway and into the deep dry sand at the border between the dunes and the beach. When they had advanced a little further, to the point where the sand was more firm, both stopped and surveyed the area. Even with sunglasses on, Jesse had to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun coming off the sand and water. He wondered why he hadn't taken a cap like Leslie was wearing.

"Here, dummy." As if she'd read his mind, Leslie removed her cap and placed it on Jesse's head. It didn't fit. She took it off and adjusted the strap. The second try worked.

"Better?"

"Yeah, um, thanks," he said, feeling a bit fussed over and embarrassed. It seemed to be taking great effort to focus on any one thing. When they put down their towels and other items, Jesse had to concentrate on what he was doing. Dr. Carlson had told him he would experience these brief disorienting moments, and, as he had also said, it vanished in an instant and he was himself, wholly, again.

Kicking off his sandals, Jesse saw Leslie waiting for him a few steps ahead, smiling and holding out her hands. And even though he had, only minutes before, seen the suit and put lotion on her back, he just now saw her from the front. A different sort of disorientation seemed to muddle his brain for a moment. Leslie had changed since the last time he'd seen her in a swimsuit, almost a year before. He had to force his head and eyes _up_ and keep from staring. Swallowing hard, he took her hand and proceeded to the water.

Shortly after reaching the water's edge, Jesse did recall something about the beach from two years before – the first time he had ever seen the Atlantic: The water was _cold_. He and Leslie exchanged wide-eyed looks as the remnants of a wave washed over their ankles. Logic told both that the water had to be above seventy degrees, but that was nearly a thirty-degree drop from the air and it chilled them briefly. Then, as they started moving, the water became more bearable and it was only when it reached levels that are more sensitive on their body was there further hesitation.

Behind them, Ellie and Brenda were trying a boogie-board Mr. Burke had purchased on a pre-vacation shopping spree that would one day become a Burke family legend, Leslie was quite sure. (No matter how many times her mother had said to buy things at the beach, he didn't listen. The result being many items left home because they would not fit in the rented van.) Both girls seemed, at one point experts, at other times clownish. More than once, each came up from the surf with a mouthful of sand, nearly choking from laughing so hard.

Jimmy was sitting at the edge of the surf throwing sand and water with a plastic shovel, another one of Mr. Burke's purchases, while his father sat next to him trying to teach the near-toddler how to build a sand castle. Jimmy, it was obvious, was far more interested in throwing sand than building with it.

Behind them, May and Joyce Ann each had a much sturdier shovel and were digging what appeared to be a grave, or the world's largest sandcastle moat. Jesse and Leslie debated which it was as the waves broke on their backs.

Further, up towards the dunes, Jesse's parents had set up a portable carrier for Brian, well shaded. His mother was fanning the baby. Mrs. Burke was on the other side of the carrier, relaxing and drinking a bottle of water. When Jesse noticed his father, he told Leslie to look at the man's face, and asked if it looked familiar.

"_YES! Oh my gosh, Jess!_ He looks just like you did at Virginia Beach when you first saw the ocean." They both laughed gaily about it, and again later when Jesse pointed out the dazed look on his father's face as he was falling asleep.

Their attention focused on the shore, a large wave broke over their shoulders, forcing both under water. Jesse kept his hold on Leslie's hand and pulled her up. Both laughed hysterically. All his earlier discomfort and anxiety was washed away by the one wave. Here, at last, was the Jesse and Leslie he was so comfortable with. Hearing a rush of approaching water both instantly turned and dove into the next large wave before it could clobber them. And in the trough of the third breaker, Leslie pulled Jesse to her and kissed him, partly hidden behind the wall of water, holding his head so he couldn't pull away, an unnecessary precaution.

Stunned and delighted, Jesse smiled like he hadn't in months when they broke apart. His girlfriend wore a similar look. And then Jesse saw what he never in his life thought he would see: Ellie had seen them kiss, and for a second she had a look of surprise, then she smiled at Jesse, or both of them, and went back to her sister who was in the process of spitting out a mouthful of sand and shells.

Floating on the water, the sand just within reach of Leslie's feet, the kids moved up and down in the rhythm of the surf, holding one or two hands as necessary. Talking now and then; kissing when a large wave gave them privacy. Both truly content with being close for what seemed the first time in months.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The typical afternoon summer thunderstorm rolled in about three-thirty and both families, though well warned of the approaching downpour, scrambled to gather their things and run back to their estate, as Mary had named it. They gathered in the shelter under the house and took turns rinsing sand out of their hair, suits, and seemingly every orifice of their body as the thunder and rain crashed and splashed around them. Mrs. Aarons dutifully inspected each of her children for sunburn as they exited the shower and pronounced everyone fit. It took a while, but eventually all were de-sanded, rinsed of salty water, and fit to go in and put on dry clothes in preparation for dinner.

Jimmy and Brian were sleeping soundly as the families gathered a short time later to talk about plans for the week. In the kitchen, Judy was impressing Mary with her plan for dinner. She pulled a number of frozen Tupperware containers from a cooler and put them in the large double sink, running warm water over them.

"Joan gave me this idea. I cooked up the spaghetti a couple days ago and then froze the sauce and meatballs. The noodles are in that bag." She pointed to the counter. "This will take a couple hours to thaw and we'll be all set."

"We should definitely keep the men out," Mary laughed, patting her friend on the back. "They'll think we've been slaving away." Opening one of the refrigerators, Mary pulled out a bottle of rosé and a beer. "Which will it be?"

Judy laughed quietly. "I love rosé."

"Wine it is." Mary proceeded to find a corkscrew and open the bottle, occasionally kicking a cabinet door or banging a pan to let the others think they were busy. Only once did the kitchen door open when May came searching for a drink. Her mother shooed the girl out and told her to get drinks from the third fridge in the game room and to tell everyone else that, "Unless you want to make dinner, stay out of the kitchen." May trotted off happily, spreading the word.

"That should buy us an hour," said Mary, a mischievous grin spreading on her face. "Grab your drink. Did you see the side porch?"

Judy had not, so Mary led her through the master bedroom she and Jesse were using out to a small screened-in deck. The storm's more violent winds had subsided and there was a refreshing breeze from the north. Between it and the steady downpour the temperature outside had dropped to a more tolerable level. The women picked up lounge chairs and sat down to drink. And talk. Both knew they had to, and about whom they had to.

"So, you want to know about Jess's little problem?" began Mary, not wasting any time. Judy nodded but said nothing.

As best she could, Mary Aarons told her neighbor and friend the whole truth about Jesse's mental illness. When possible, she stressed the positive. Fortunately, there were more good things to emphasize than bad. It took about fifteen minutes, and then Judy began to ask her questions. Mary was prepared for the first one.

"Is what we saw Jess do to Leslie part of these alternate personalities?"

"Jude," said Mary, trying to hide her aggravation at her friend's second accusation of her son, "in short, yes, it was. But you have to look at Jess as a whole, you can't break him down into five parts and say one of his alters did this and another did that. It doesn't work that way."

Judy listened, swirling her wine in the glass and looking rather unconvinced. "But it was because of the...what did you call it...his 'Jesse alter'? It was that part of his personality which...prompted him to give that sort of kiss?"

"No, he has no dominant alters any more, and he never really did. With DID, the person is usually controlled by one of the alters, but Jess's alters never advanced that far. And a lot of that is due to Leslie."

Here was something Judy had _not_ heard; she was taken aback. "How so?"

"Leslie's friendship – their friendship – stabilized Jess, and helped him begin to integrate the alters back into himself before they took over. She was the main reason Jess is so much better now."

"Ok...then why the three weeks in the hospital?"

"One of the alters was particularly..." she paused while trying to find the right word. "It was manifesting itself through pain: Jess's migraines. Dr. Carlson tried to work with it, but its only defense was to cause Jess more pain. They had to sedate him, and keep him lightly sedated, while working through that alter. It took almost a week of constant therapy." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Mary Aarons wished her friend would read her body language and see she didn't want to talk about it any more. But Judy did not.

"Is Jess at all dangerous?"

At this, Mary Aarons finally lost her temper.

"_Hell's Bells, Judy, does he look dangerous?! If you thought he was a threat to your daughter, you would have stopped their friendship by now. So what are you getting at?_"

Judy looked taken aback by the force of her friend's response. It took her a few seconds to construct an answer.

"I'm sorry, Mary, that was out of line." Mary didn't look like she believed it. "You _saw_ them out in the water."

"_Yes! Of course I saw them_. For heaven's sake, Judy, _they're in love!_ Because you and Bill had...problems at their age doesn't mean they will. Cut them some slack. You told me you trusted them...both. Why are things different now?"

Judy stood and paced the small deck for a minute; Mary could tell she was fighting back tears, but whatever else was developing in her head was impossible to discern.

"Please sit down, Jude," said Mary, patting the chair. She waited until she did so. "_I_ trust them completely; I'd have let them share a room if...hang on, I didn't say share a bed. That room with the bunk beds and no door would have worked. But I respect your caution and concern. I wish you'd show the same respect for Jess."

"It's hard, Mary...very hard...to let them be like they are, after what I went through." Judy's voice was very quiet; obviously still fighting ghosts from her teen years.

"They know their limits, we've talked about that. We need to let them be themselves until they prove unworthy of that trust." Mary delivered the statement as a challenge. Judy rose again and emptied her wine glass in one long pull. Tapping her foot nervously, she finally agreed.

Mary glanced at her watch. "Come on, we have a meal to prepare. Want me to make the garlic bread?"

"Sure," Judy replied quietly, accepting her friend's one-arm embrace. "Brenda looks better than I've seen her in a year. How is she doing?"

"_Much_ improved, thanks for asking. I saw some guys her and Ellie's age a ways down the beach; they were watching the girls fall in the surf. Seemed to find it amusing."

Laughing, the two mothers returned to prepare the spaghetti meal.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Mr. Aarons left for Lark Creek after church late Sunday morning, and it was obvious that he wanted stay. His wife knew, however, that he would have felt lazy if he remained during the week. She and the others bade him goodbye and went back inside to prepare for another day by the ocean.

There were more people about that afternoon, with the Sunday to Saturday renters now in town. For the most part, at least to begin with, Leslie and Jesse kept to themselves. There were children (and parents) at or near everyone else's age and it quickly became difficult to keep tabs on their entire group. Brenda and Ellie waved and headed a couple hundred yards south with a gaggle of boys and girls trying to surf in the pathetically small waves.

May and Joyce were playing with the family two houses down who were building enormous sand castles with full-sized shovels and spades. Two older girls, in their early to mid teens, provided the muscle while their two younger siblings worked with the Aarons youngsters forming the decorative walls, turrets, and buildings – all made from buckets of damp sand. It was easily big enough for Jimmy and Eddie, the other family's one year old, to sit inside and happily watch their siblings do the work. Jesse and Leslie wandered over to watch after playing in the water, the waves being too small to do anything more than shove more sand into their bathing suit. Leslie introduced herself the two girls and offered to take a turn digging, but she was politely turned down. She hung around for a couple more minutes, but when ignored further, she went back to sun with Jesse and make disparaging comments about their less-than-friendly neighbors.

By four o'clock the weather was again threatening, and with a bit more organization than the day before the two families pulled their belongings together and headed in with the other families fleeing the rain.

The storms didn't relent until about eight that evening, so no one was inclined to walk or comb the beach for shells. The older girls were kicking a soccer ball around in the puddle-spotted court with some of the older teens they'd met; the little ones were asleep, with May close behind; the adults were sitting in the family room talking about things only they would be interested in; and Jesse and Leslie were in her room trying to watch one of the old video tapes the house had in stock. They had bickered for ten minutes before agreeing on one neither really liked. After fifteen minutes, they ended up turning it off and lay talking, Jesse lying on the floor, his body resting on some of the oversized pillows from the game room, and Leslie on the bed, her head hanging over the edge at an awkward-looking angle, staring down at her boyfriend. Both had humorously agreed on the physical separation to spare themselves the wrath of one or more parent.

"Have a good time today?" asked Leslie, overdramatically batting her eyes at Jesse.

"Yep, but the waves were too small." Both laughed. There had been very little kissing in the water due to the diminutive swells.

They talked on for an hour or so, entwining their fingers and occasionally starting silently at the other, or making goofy faces to see who would crack-up first. When they heard their parents getting up to prepare for bed, Jesse started to rise but Leslie gently held him back.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered.

"Me, too," he responded, hoping the simple answer would adequately express his happiness. He watched Leslie's reaction and began to understand how she could feel so comfortable and confident kissing him. The urge to have a repeat performance of his last birthday celebration became instantly overwhelming.

"Bed time, you two," announced Mr. Burke, raising his eyebrows slightly at the site of the kids' odd positioning. He shot Jesse a very brief glance, chuckled, and walked away.

Jesse took a quick look behind him, got up on his knees, and both mutually leaned into a brief kiss and then a longer embrace. The sound of another approaching adult broke them apart and they quickly sat up. Jesse arched his eyebrows, offering Leslie his hand and formally shaking hers, all for the consumption of Mrs. Burke who happened to be the next adult passing by. She saw them acting up, but said nothing and walked on, smiling slightly.

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

- - - - - - - - - - -

From Monday forward, Jesse and Leslie began their day with a long run up the beach and back. An old naval air station, two and a half miles north of their house, marked the halfway point of their jog. They were in the habit of using running as exercise and seldom talked or brought up any topic that required a response of more than a few words. The exhilaration of the physical workout pushed them, both mentally and physically, and each fed off the other's drive to do better. Leslie had told Jesse once that running was like purging her brain of the junk that had built up in it, she could then start the day with a clear head and open mind. Jesse agreed.

When they returned home, however, the restrictions of life were again present, so they took to walking the final half-mile, extending their time alone together, a practice that had started the summer before and was readopted at the Outer Banks. For both teens, that last twenty minutes of their morning routine was their most private time together. Thoughts, dreams, fears, and hopes were talked about, or, now and then, nothing was talked about. It wasn't a physically intimate part of their day, both being sweaty and tired, but it became what they would later recognize as analogous to a date: Both were with who they wanted to be with, doing what they wanted to do, and sharing what they wanted to share.

After dinner, weather and wind permitting, Jesse and Leslie took May and Joyce out to the beach to fly kites. Off in the distance they would sometimes spot the huge advertising kites, which seemed large enough to carry a child into the sky. Their own little bat-kites were nothing compared with the others, but the two young girls loved fighting with them when the wind gusted, or letting the string all the way out so you could barely see it. If the winds were too strong, the four would return to building sand castles and see how long they could make them withstand the rising tide. At nearly ten years old, May was becoming more fun to play with and she was interested in doing things they liked, too.

Brenda and Ellie continued to hang around with their group of older teens, having passed their mother's inspection and gaining her approval. Both were absent from the house more often as the week progressed, which wasn't really a problem except when Mary or Judy wanted one of them to watch a baby or two, then the responsibility fell to Jesse and Leslie.

Mid-week, the girls returned home one afternoon following a trip to the mall. They exited the house again shortly thereafter and were seen with their friends sporting new bathing suits. Ellie, the more appropriately built for a skimpy two-piece, like her mother was at nineteen, began to attract a lot more attention. Brenda, though not unattractive, was not as shapely as her older sister and had the good sense to wear something that was both alluring and more suited to her figure. Always more tolerant of the older girls, Mary Aarons said nothing about the change of apparel. Judy Burke, however, wondered how long it would be before her daughter would begin to entertain the idea of trying a bikini. But Judy's concern was more for the effect it would have on Jesse than the idea of revealing that much flesh in public. Since Leslie did not make any requests, however, the point was moot.

On their Wednesday morning run, Jesse and Leslie met up with Morgan and Toni Unger, the fourteen and fifteen year old sisters who had ignored Leslie their first day at the beach. Both were friendlier in their greeting and the two Lark Creek residents slowed down to chat with them a bit. The Ungers were starting their freshman and sophomore year at a high school in the Northern Neck of Virginia and were members of the varsity swim team, which explained the broad muscular shoulders and their ability to effortlessly shovel so much sand. By a common and nonverbal agreement, Jesse and Leslie cut their run short and invited the girls to walk the rest of the way back to their respective houses.

Morgan, the younger sister, was shier than Toni, and said little; she apparently deferred to her sister as much as possible. Toni was friendlier than a few days before, but talked harshly about everything and seldom smiled, unless you mentioned swimming. She gave the impression of bitterness, though neither Jesse nor Leslie pried to find the source. By the time they reached home, everyone seemed to have exhausted their supply of words and the two groups parted with nothing more than friendly waves. The Unger teens remained friendly but distant for the balance of the week, though all three sets of parents struck up conversations frequently and by Friday had agreed on going to dinner together and leaving the younger ones under the care of Brenda and Ellie, which meant Jesse and Leslie.

Unlike the hotel-strewn Virginia Beach area, Duck's size and low capacity for tourist drew in far fewer potential kids their age. This, combined with Unger teens' distance, brought to the forefront Jesse and Leslie's friendship with the Jacobs, whom they had not seen for a number of weeks. Thursday, Leslie approached Jesse with a plan to call Grace and try to talk them into coming down, at least for a few days, the following week. It would require some fence mending, as Jesse and Tom had not left on the best of terms. But he agreed and as Leslie went to find Grace's cell phone number, Jesse went to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Burke. Ten minutes later, they were dialing.

Grace answered after seven rings, (she seldom used voice-mail,) and recognizing the dialed number, launched directly into exuberant conversation with Leslie, who was trying hard not to laugh at her friend's obvious joy. A couple minutes later she had to break in and then began talking nonstop about the beach and house and all the things they were doing. Bored, Jesse sat on a chair overdramatically yawning at his girlfriend. She usually replied by sticking out her tongue. Finally, Leslie told him to go away, whereupon Jesse heard Grace asking who was there….was Jesse staying both weeks…et cetera.

Following the lengthy conversation with her friend, Leslie handed the phone to Jesse and told him to talk to Tom. Far fewer syllables and lively conversation followed, but the boys were, by the time they finished, in better spirits, all agreeing their Tidewater-based friends should come to the Outer Banks, if possible. With the easy part over, both parties agreed to speak with their parent(s) and make the necessary arrangements. That took a couple more calls, but Mr. Jacobs had seen his kids' lack of enthusiasm for remaining in the Newport News area much longer and was planning to take them to Wilmington for a few days before heading back to Lark Creek. He happily agreed to drop the kids off on his way down the coast, but politely refused to stay himself. Both Mary and Judy had talked with him and felt it would work and Bill proceeded to make arrangements to meet the Jacobs at Elizabeth City. With the Aarons departing after a week (leaving Jesse behind,) it added a promise of excitement to Jesse's and the Burkes' second week.

The remainder of the first week passed quietly. Friday morning a cool rain settled over the area and everyone stayed indoors, or in the hot tub, the entire day. The older girls were going out that evening to a movie with their friends, the adults had their planned dinner date with the Ungers, which left Jesse and Leslie in charge of May and Joyce Aarons, Jimmy Burke, and Terry and Melissa Unger. Jesse also insisted that Brian, only two months old, stay with him.

The parents were away three hours, and all went well back at the house. Morgan and Toni had stopped by, but left after a brief visit. May was watching a _Thomas the Tank Engine_ video with Melissa. Terry was conked-out in the playpen. Jimmy was sleeping soundly on his sister's chest, and Brian on Jesse's, while the teens sat next to each other on the large sofa, talking and looking through a magazine of area attractions.

Mary went looking for the children upon her return and was moved by the love and affection Jesse had for his brother, and had shown him from the day he was born. But she was also not blind to the picture of her son and his girlfriend sitting together, each with a baby. As Mary was stopped on the stairs watching them, Judy came up from behind and took in the scene. She said nothing. Seeing his mother, Jesse reluctantly turned Brian over to her, noting that he needed to be changed.

The rain continued to fall all through Saturday and the inadequate network of roads all up and down the Outer Banks were clogged with vacationers whose week was up, or who were leaving early due to the weather. It also made the Aarons' departure Sunday morning that much easier. Brenda and Ellie had bid teary farewells to their friends the evening before and moped around the house making motions like they were fulfilling their cleaning obligations. May was giving Jesse and Leslie goodbye hugs as her brother told her that she would soon be having friends taking her to the beach. Brian, asleep, was already in the car as Mary Aarons bade her friends goodbye, with many a _thank you_ added in. Saving her eldest son for last, she took him aside and told him to behave himself and call if he had any questions or problems. Jesse promised he would.

With on final wave, the bulk of the Aarons family began the long ride home.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: This chapter was becoming a monster, with almost 20k words, so I split it in two. The second part should be out shortly._

_Thank you for reading, especially those who have left reviews._


	26. Part 4: The Friends

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 26 – The Friends**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

The Monday of his second week in Duck, Jesse woke feeling particularly settled. The recovery he had been going through since his release from the hospital was progressing well, he assessed. Aside from a few moments of disorientation, the past week had been good for him, something he was not entirely sure would happen when he first arrived. Only once did he feel any panic and a desire to contact Dr. Carlson, but that too passed quickly and he took it as yet another indication he was making progress. He had thought of a number of questions for the psychiatrist, but those were insignificant compared with ones from a few weeks back. All in all, Jesse was happy and relaxed.

Seeing the sun outside, he jumped up, used the toilet, brushed his teeth, and dressed for his morning run with Leslie. She was already up and sitting in the kitchen tying her running shoes. Hearing her best friend enter, she turned, but did not give him her usual morning smile. Jesse asked what was wrong and she explained.

"Joan and Brian can't come down, the kids are all sick."

Jesse grimaced knowing how much Leslie was anticipating their arrival, and he liked them, too. "Sorry, I know you were looking forward to seeing them."

Leslie shrugged: There was nothing she could do about it. "Ready?" she asked, knowing he was. "Have you been out this morning?"

"No, I just got up."

Leslie finished tying her other shoe, jotted down a brief note that they were out jogging, and jumped up, holding out her hand. Together they stepped outside… into a distressingly hot and humid July morning.

"_Ugh_," groaned Jesse, holding her arms out, already blinded the moisture in the air condensing on his sunglasses. "It must be near ninety already. I was hoping for better weather."

Leslie mournfully echoed his lament.

The two moved into the shade of the house and stretched for a few minutes, by which time they were already soaked with perspiration. It was shaping up to be their roughest morning run yet.

Leaving a couple towels over one of the exterior shower doors, they started off at their usual leisurely pace for the first two miles, but it didn't take long for the heat to get to them. Both also suffered from the higher humidity, and the second two miles, usually run faster, retained the slower pace. At the four mile mark, both had finished all their water and the final two miles before them began to appear more like a trek across the desert. Their shirts, with the high humidity, were soaked and clung to their skin. Jesse pealed his off, wrung it out, and tied it around his head. (Leslie drew up energy to wolf-whistle at him but even that came out sounding tired.) The make-shift turban worked well, shielding his head from the sun, and the evaporating wetness even offered some cooling. Leslie seriously considered doing the same thing, they'd seen girls running on the beach wearing only athletic bras as tops, but decided against it. With her stamina rapidly waning, they stopped and walked the final mile, feeling as if they'd covered far more ground than they had.

Their mouths dry made talking difficult, so they walked hand-in-hand, almost staggering the final few hundred yards to the house and outdoor showers. They had, over the past week, used the shower to wet their head after the run. This morning, however, Leslie walked in completely clothed and turned on only the cold nozzle, letting the water pour over her. But the refreshment she'd hope to feel was not there: The water was lukewarm, and drinking it made her gag. Feeling lightheaded, she asked Jesse to help her up the stairs, which he did immediately and noticed her skin was cool and dry to the touch when it should have been warm and wet, a sure sign of dehydration and heat exhaustion, Jesse took her to the kitchen, pouring both of them a glass of chilled water from the fridge. Leslie drank hers greedily, and then another, and finally began to look better, though not noticing the blanket here boyfriend had put over her shoulders.

Mr. and Mrs. Burke and Jimmy were still asleep, so Jesse helped Leslie to her room where she sat on her bed, looking like she would go back to sleep.

"Jess, my robe," she muttered, pointing to a woman's dressing gown thrown over a chair. She stood to put it on, but Jesse told her to change first or the cold dry air in the house would give her chills. She agreed and he left to fetch yet another drink.

Back in the kitchen, Mr. Burke had appeared, staggering around, nearly as much as Leslie had, showing the after-effects of a sleepless night. He mumbled something to Jesse about never having children and then headed back to the bedroom.

Snickering, Jesse filled Leslie's glass with Gatorade and headed back to her room, entering after knocking. Leslie's wet clothing lay in a pile on the rug, and she was wrapped in the robe lying on the bed. Jesse set the drink on the nightstand and pulled a comforter over her; she just smiled, her eyes closed.

As he went to leave, she said simply, "Stay."

Knowing better than that, Jesse told her to rest while he showered and changed. In ten minutes he was cleaned up and returned to the room to find her asleep. He checked the comforter and picked up the pile of soaked clothes, depositing them in the bathroom she had been sharing with May. When he stepped back into the hallway, Mrs. Burke was standing there. Startled, Jesse jumped when she said good morning.

"Sorry, Jess. Thank you for taking care of Les. It sounds like she got dehydrated."

"Yeah, she'll be ok…" he started hesitantly. "I, um, put her clothes in the tub. She would have been, you know, cold, um…if she wore them…and her bed would get wet."

Judy, believing Jesse afraid that he'd done something wrong, walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's ok, Jess, I'm not upset about what you did."

Later, Jesse realized, it probably would have been more prudent to keep his response to himself, but it spilled out of his mouth with little thought and more force than might be considered prudent.

"Well, Mrs. Burke, the problem is _I can't tell_ when you're going to be mad about something we do…I was just trying to help her."

Judy Burke froze for a moment at Jesse's words. In that brief pause many things went through her mind, the foremost of which was the truth of the boy's words. When he started to apologize for being rude, she stopped him.

"You're right, Jess, I'm sorry. I become over-protective of my daughter very easily." Judy leaned against the wall feeling far too weary for eight in the morning. "Jess, do you know why I'm that way?"

"I think so. Last year Les told me something about you and Mr. Burke…when you were our age."

Sighing, Judy nodded. "Why don't you go sit with her a while. It might make her feel better knowing you're there."

As Mrs. Burke walked back to her room, Jesse stood, a bit stunned by her words. He also knew it was a challenge and that he wouldn't let anyone down. Tapping on the door lightly, he opened it and looked for one of the extra pillows. Finding it, he lay on the floor next to Leslie's bed and softly touched her hand.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jesse had stayed with Leslie for a while and then went to prepare two rooms for the Jacobs, not knowing if Tom wanted to room with him or Grace with Leslie. He had little to do, however, the weekly maid service cleaned the beds and bathrooms, Jesse mostly got in their way while waiting for Leslie to reappear. She did so around ten o'clock and the two of them went to the kitchen for cereal and juice. Leslie, still groggy and in some pain, took Tylenol and told him he was sweet to wait for her to eat. Jesse worked hard to suppress a smile; he'd eaten an hour earlier.

Bill Burke took Jesse and Leslie with him to Elizabeth City where he would pick up the Jacobs. They met right on time at the Arby's just west of town on the main highway. Tom and Grace looked ready for something fun to do, Jesse commented to Leslie, but their father was quiet and his eyes looked a little moist when he said goodbye.

A couple hours later, the boys were happily out of the car, having listened to Leslie and Grace chatter on, almost nonstop, since being reunited. Leslie took Grace's hand and pulled her into the house to show her around. Tom said he was going to see the ocean and Jesse tagged along, having nothing else to do at the moment.

Sitting on the edge of the wooden walkway over the dunes, Tom and Jesse watched the water quietly for a long time. It was painfully obvious to Jesse that his friend was still in morning, but he didn't know what to say or do, so he did neither for a long time. But the blazing afternoon sun was sending rivulets of sweat down his back and chest, and Jesse decided he would start a conversation, if for no other reason than to get Tom back inside.

"Pretty cool, isn't it…the ocean?"

Tom grunted in agreement.

He tried again. "You and Grace do anything interesting the past few weeks?"

This time Tom gave him a look that clearly told him to shut up.

"Sorry, just trying to help," muttered Jesse.

"Well don't. You can't possibly understand what losing a parent is like, so just_ shut the hell up_."

The truth of Tom's words didn't hurt as much as did their implication that he could do nothing to make his friend feel better, but Jesse had an idea that Tom didn't really want him to be quiet - that maybe he wanted to be pulled out of his depression – fighting, but pulled out nevertheless. Tom had, after all, told him a few days earlier he wanted to go to the beach. But part of what Tom had said was true, he hadn't lost a parent. However…

"Tom, did Les ever tell you and Grace where I was those three weeks I missed school?"

"She said you were sick, why?" he snapped, clearly still not interested in talking.

"Did she tell you I was in the psychiatric ward at Roanoke Valley Hospital?"

_That_ got his friend's attention. _"What?!"_

"Yep, I went crazy." He exaggerated, circling his finger around the side of his head. "Sedated, gross stuff going on all around me, completely off the deep end." Tom gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, almost."

"Thanks, Jess, I appreciate you telling me. Pardon me if I _still_ feel crappy," he groused obstinately.

"No, that's ok." He paused before starting the second part of his story. Tom was shaking his head in annoyance seeing his friend would not be quiet. "Since she didn't tell you where I was, she probably didn't tell you why, did she?"

"No…but I bet it wasn't because your mother died, was it?"

Jesse considered giving up right there, but persisted. He prepared what he had to say.

"No: It was because _Leslie_ died." It came out like a whisper, but filled with emotion; Jesse didn't have to act very much. And to Tom, there was something frighteningly truthful embedded in his friend's statement.

"But…you mean you _thought_ she had died?" asked Tom, now genuinely curious.

Jesse took a deep breath and told his friend what he had been living with for two years. The nightmares, the migraines, the ghostly image of a future self telling him Leslie had been dead nearly two decades. He spoke of the Dark Master, the deaths in his family, and how they had become as real to him as they were to this alternate personality. Then he shared the first months of therapy, the hypnosis sessions, finally the revelation that he had a mental illness. He told of reintegrating his Jesse alter, and having to deal with the profound sense of hopelessness and loss it felt for a person who had never _really_ died, and the emotional confusion it brought, and the thoughts of suicide. And for good measure, he added the horror stories of the terribly ill people at the hospital, and the things they did, and said, and believed.

As Jesse talked, Tom glanced behind them and saw Mrs. Burke and the girls, all were standing, utterly shocked by what they were overhearing, but seemingly unable to leave. Mrs. Burke motioned for him to not reveal their presence.

Jesse talked on and on; he had not gone into this much detail with Leslie, nowhere near as much. By the time he had finished, both their necks were sunburned and more than two hours had passed. Emotionally drained, Jesse had tears flowing freely but was able to keep from completely breaking down. He ended, his head hanging down, by telling his friend, "No, I don't know what it's like to lose a parent, Tom. But between you and me, I think I'd rather lose a parent than experience the pain of losing Les again."

Having finished his story, and no longer focused on the nightmares of the prior two years, Jesse finally heard sounds behind him. He turned and found Grace and Leslie, clearly shocked and moved, behind him. But that was nothing at all to Jesse when he saw who was behind _them_. Mrs. Burke stood there, apparently having come out with the girls looking for them. Jesse had said much more about what had happened to Tom than he had to his mother, and Mrs. Burke was clearly in shock at the depth of his problem and pain.

Fortunately, and to her credit, she was equally shocked at the depth of Jesse's feelings for her daughter.

The five remained sitting or standing, everyone but Jesse stunned, and feeling more self-conscious as the seconds passed. Jesse finally broke the spell by chuckling as he dried his eyes with his t-shirt, saying, "So now you have a wacko for a friend. Just don't tell Scott Hoager."

The four kids walked back to the house together, no one speaking, but he felt three sets of hands touch his shoulder as he passed Mrs. Burke and his friends, along with Leslie's hand holding his. Both Grace and Leslie had tried to apologize for overhearing, but Jesse would have none of it. He told them, truthfully, that he was glad they all knew so he wouldn't have to tell the story more than once. As Jesse walked by Mrs. Burke, their eyes met. The adolescent saw he had earned a great deal of respect, and maybe even some leeway, with Leslie's mother. But he wasn't in the mood to test that theory. Yet.

Later that night, too aggravated by the sunburn to go out for a walk on the beach, Jesse turned-in early. The house had been mostly quiet after they had returned, Tom, Grace and Leslie keeping pretty much to themselves, deep in thought. Jesse lay on his stomach with a thick application of Bag Balm on his neck and ears (as was Tom in his room) and thinking about Leslie. He heard his door creak, and a hand touch his back, well below the burned area.

"Hey, you awake?" Leslie spoke softly, in case he _was_ asleep.

"Nope. Laying here thinking about you."

The comment seemed to render the girl speechless for a minute.

"Nice things, I hope."

"Yeah. By the way, I put your wet clothes in your bathroom... I didn't know you wore pink underwear."

Leslie gasped, trying to remember if she _had_ worn pink panties that morning. She punched his shoulder playfully when she finally recalled they weren't, but hit a little too close to the burned area. Jesse tensed, sucking in air through clenched teeth.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Jess. Can I...do anything?"

"No, thanks." His reply wasn't as nice as it might have been, but he felt the sheet being pulled off his upper back and something completely unfamiliar touching him. A second later, when he realized what it was, he nearly jumped.

"Did that hurt, too?" asked Leslie quietly.

"Um, no…it didn't. Did you...Did you just kiss my back?"

"Uh-huh, I couldn't get to your lips." Jesse could _hear_ the smile in her words.

"Save it for tomorrow, maybe the waves will be bigger."

Leslie laughed aloud. It was sweet and soothing, and he forgot about the pain in his neck for a few seconds.

"Night, Jess."

"Night."

- - - - - - - - - - -

At breakfast the next day it was clear that the only thing bothering Tom was his sunburn, and even that was tolerable. He'd worn the same prescribed ointment as Jesse and now reaped its benefits. Jesse, whose skin was a shade fairer and a bit more burned, was still in some pain as he joined his friend in the kitchen. They sat quietly for a while, eating cereal, predicting another scorcher of a day.

Mr. Burke came in shortly thereafter, placing Jimmy in his highchair and setting a handful of Cheerios on the tray.

"Long night, Mr. Burke?" asked Tom upon seeing the man's long-suffering look and red eyes.

He mumbled in the affirmative.

"Would you like Jesse to watch the kid so you can go back to sleep?"

"_Hey!_" Jesse protested, half-laughing. He gave Tom a rude hand gesture, but the boy just smiled. It was the first really happy look Jesse had seen from him in a long time. "That's fine, Mr. Burke, I'll watch him if you want to go back to sleep."

Mr. Burke heartily thanked Jesse, accepting his offer.

An hour later, while Tom and Jesse were playing with the baby, the girls came in from outside; their hair was a mess, obviously victims of the damp sea air and a strong wind. They greeted them (Leslie winked at Jesse) telling of the big waves and the warm air, but without the blazing sun. Then the girls sat with the boys and Jimmy and talked about what they were going to do for the day. By consensus, it was decided to head to the beach when Mr. or Mrs. Burke got up, bringing the rafts to ride the waves.

The waves were as good as Leslie and Grace had described; almost too good. The news from Kitty Hawk was that the red flags would come out if they picked up much more: A tropical storm was headed their way. But for the time being, the four bravely plunged into the water and spent the rest of the morning rafting or body surfing. Grace, who was wearing a two-piece suit with a little extra room for her to grow into, made the mistake of body surfing right up to the beach and then had to spent the next few minutes trying discreetly to flush sand out of her top. She stuck to the rafts after that.

At noon, everyone gathered by the pool for lunch. Mrs. Burke grilled hamburgers and hot dogs while Mr. Burke played in the water with Jimmy. All the while, the wind was picking up and the eastern sky darkened.

After lunch and a break, Leslie was conspicuously eager to get back in the water, this time alone with Jesse: Grace and Tom planned to build a monstrous sand castle and went off to find a large shovel. But when they all crossed the dunes to the beach, they saw a line of red flags posted as far as could be seen up and down the beach. And from the increased size of the waves, both Leslie and Jesse knew they wouldn't have been able to safely enjoy themselves in the water. So all four set out to build what would be the largest sand structure any had ever created.

It took them three hours of shoveling and sculpting, with the weather worsening around them, to prepare the basic structure. Then each took one wall and corner to personally embellish. Jesse's was remotely Gothic, Tom went with a modern motif, Grace built her walls high and straight, with no real style, but strong to face the approaching water, and Leslie left her castle wall as it was, but extended many long tendrils of sand out from her corner, making it look like a giant squid was squashed beneath. During the construction of their work, adults and children stopped to admire the work. A few gave them useful hints and a couple annoying teens tried to walk over the small mountain; Tom and Jesse chased them away with the help of a friendly adult.

It was nearly five when they finished, and the roiling surf was rapidly rising; the first tips of the waves had just reached the base of Grace's section. Leslie, sitting higher on the dune than Jesse, watched, leaning over him, her head resting on the top of his and her arms draped around his neck, hands resting on his chest. It was a comfortable position as the stiffening wind was chilling the air.

Jesse watched on, too, content, but also a little worried about Grace and Tom. Both were sitting quietly, and obviously thinking of their mother again. Leslie whispered an idea into his ear and both turned to pull their friends into them. As Leslie suggested, she pulled Tom next to her and he reluctantly accepted her arm around his shoulder. Jesse moved Grace next to him and she immediately pulled his arm around her and leaned into him. His hand and arm hanging down on her chest; she seemed oblivious, clutching his arm like a talisman against more sadness. Although Jesse was uncomfortable with where Grace had placed his arm, he ignored it. Besides, there was almost nothing for him to bump into.

Silence surrounded the four friends as the waves began to reach the castle in force. Just then, Mrs. Burke appeared with her camera and Mr. Burke carrying Jimmy. Judy quickly assessed the scene and ran down the beach to get a few shots of the castle with the kids in the background before it was too late. She just made it. A large wave washed up seconds after she had finished, swamping half the castle. Jimmy, watching happily from the dune, cheered the waves on. Then everyone and watched the masterpiece disintegrate. It didn't last long against the storm-driven water.

"Kids, we have some good news and some bad news," said Mr. Burke, while wrestling with the baby. "The good news is that we're going out for dinner. The bad news is that we're under a hurricane warning. That storm," he pointed out to sea, "has intensified and will hit here late tonight."

Tom and Jesse thought this was an excellent way to spend the evening, forgot about dinner, and began making insane plans for watching the storm from the deck until both Mr. and Mrs. Burke told them they would do no such thing. The girls looked worried.

"Do we need to evacuate?" asked Grace uncertainly, clearly the most anxious of the seven.

"No, we don't need to bug-out, by the time it hits it'll barely be a category one. That has winds of only sixty-five to seventy miles-per-hour. But we _do_ need to get the house ready before we go to dinner."

Mr. Burke ran through a short list of precautions they had been advised by the realtor to follow. The house was modern and well built to withstand all but a category four or five storm, but loose objects had to be secured, the pool cover set, and all the windows had exterior shutters that needed closing. It took a good hour to finish everything, then they cleaned up and went out to eat.

By the time the vacationers returned from dinner, the wind was approaching gale strength and the sky was spitting rain. To the east, looking into the storm, lightning was lighting up the sky, though the howling of the storm drowned out its thunder. Wind-borne sand, blasting against bare skin, was painful and would get in the eyes if not protected. Judy wrapped Jimmy in a blanket (which he thought was like one long game of peek-a-boo) and dashed for the stairs. Everyone else followed, Mr. Burke bringing up the rear. Inside, the noise from the sand and wind was soon joined by a patter, then a solid rush, of driving rain. Everyone ran off to double check the windows and doors, but they had done a thorough job earlier and all was well.

Jimmy fell asleep soon thereafter and the others tried to relax by playing cards and board games, waiting, and listening. The storm was not large, and the eye was predicted to pass over Kitty Hawk, ten miles south, but none of them had ever been through something like this and did not know what to expect. Grace, obviously frightened, tried to concentrate on the games but was hopelessly inept in her current state. The electricity flickered at about ten as the eye of the weakening hurricane closed in, and then failed completely, silencing everyone. But just as all the lights went out, the rain and wind stopped and there was an eerie calm.

"I bet we're in the eye," said Grace, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. She was now pacing and would only stop when Mr. Burke let her sit with him.

"Let's look," suggested Jesse, running for the door and ignoring the calls of caution.

Stepping outside first, Jesse saw that Grace had been correct. The others followed onto the deck and looked up to see a clear, star covered sky with a bright full moon. High in the northwest sky, the light from the moon shone on the receding wall of the eye. They all watched it in fascination for five minutes, until it faded away. Fortunately, Mrs. Burke, camera in hand, was looking around for interesting pictures and saw out in the ocean, now just becoming visible, the opposite side of the eye wall. It would be another five minutes before it hit, but no one waited that long to go inside.

When the wind and rain restarted, it was as if a switch had been thrown. The entire house went from silence back to the unnerving rattle and pelting which had been absent for nearly a quarter of an hour. But the aft side of the storm was weaker and by midnight there was little remaining to be excited about. Grace had fallen asleep, her head on her brother's lap. Leslie too was nodding off and eventually keeled over onto Jesse's shoulder. Tom and Jesse, sitting next to each other, cracked jokes at the girl's expense, but soon found they were ready for bed, too.

Tom helped Grace to her room and then headed to bed himself. Much to his surprise, Mrs. Burke brought out a couple blankets and told Jesse to stay on the couch with Leslie, if he wished. He did, and said thanks, draping one blanket over his girlfriend, the other over himself. Then, laying back, he went to sleep feeling immensely happy, if not at all comfortable.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the Jacobs' visit went by far too quickly. The beach remained closed Wednesday, but Jesse and Leslie took a short run, enjoying the significantly cooler air and lower humidity. The kids spent much of the afternoon at Kitty Hawk Mall, shopping and goofing around, meeting Leslie's parents and brother for dinner and a movie of which Judy got to see little, Jimmy deciding he didn't like theaters.

Thursday morning was still relatively cool, everyone went to Kitty Hawk National Monument and then spent a couple hours on Kill Devil Hills sand-boarding and begging Mr. and Mrs. Burke to let them try hang-gliding. They resolutely refused, not having Jesse's or the Jacobs' parents' permission (though Leslie was told she could try it, but declined.) Upon returning to the house, they found the red flags had been removed and the kids planned a long evening walk on the beach.

Friday afternoon Mr. Jacobs arrived in Duck to pick up his son and daughter. Judy and Bill noticed he looked tense and apprehensive. But when he heard about the wonderful time the kids had had, he seemed to cheer-up and relax. Bill walked him out to the beach where the four kids were playing in the water. There were dozens of other people nearby, also enjoying the first good swimming in three days.

When Mr. Jacobs said he couldn't see Grace, Bill pointed her out; she had just mounted her brother's shoulders to have a chicken fight with Jesse and Leslie.

"Good _God!_" he exclaimed. "Where did she get that…that _suit_?"

"Uh, well, it's not _that_ skimpy..."

"I suppose…. Your daughter's isn't much better," Grace's father then observed dryly.

For the first time Bill Burke noticed that his daughter was not wearing her old suit, but a new light-blue two-piece that left him a bit stunned.

"I, uh, think I'll let Judy handle that," said Bill uneasily. The new suit covered less flesh than the old one, but it was also a far cry from being any less than tasteful.

Mr. Burke whistled loudly, distracting Leslie long enough for Grace and Tom to knock her and Jesse over and into a large wave which immediately crashed down on them. Laughing, Tom let his sister down and they ran to their father. A few minutes later, the Jacobs were gathering their small collection of items while Jesse and Leslie watched glumly, both trying to pick clumps of sand from their hair. The entire way back to the house, both of Mr. Jacobs' children talked on about what a wonderful time they'd had. Smiling - really smiling - for the first time in two months, Mr. Jacobs forgot all about his daughter's suit and thought about how fortunate he and his children were. An hour later and they were gone.

The rest of the day was spent packing and cleaning, but there was little of either to do. They had to be out of the house by ten the next morning so the rented van was already mostly packed, the kitchen cleaned, the trash taken out, and the house left in pretty much its proper shape. It was a quiet time for everyone. The two weeks had been fun and not without a few surprises, and there was still so much that hadn't been seen, Leslie pointed out.

"The lighthouses, the history of the area. If we come back next year we can do some of that, too."

Jesse silently agreed as he again swept the kitchen floor of its never-ending collection of sand, and stole brief glimpses of Leslie, still wearing her new suit. When she told him her mother had bought it, he nearly choked.

Later that evening, following dinner, Jesse and Leslie were sitting on the couch in the game room talking about the past two weeks. Jimmy was nodding off in the playpen, clutching a nondescript blue squishy toy that seemed to have some significance to him. Mr. and Mrs. Burke were upstairs and had told the kids they were on their own for a while, a euphemism, Leslie told Jesse unabashedly, that meant they were probably _doing it_.

"What? They tell you… um, when…you know…they're going to…" Jesse stumbled through his question, both appalled and curious.

"No, not exactly," giggled Leslie, her face showing a red tint, too. "And why are you so upset? Your parents do it!" When she saw the look of horror on his face she laughed. "Jess, where do you think Brian came from?"

Jesse closed his eyes and shook his head, it was an image he had no desire to have floating around in his mind like when you get a song stuck in your head.

They sat chatting for a while longer about the rest of the summer. Both were looking forward to their morning runs together and weekend hikes. Somewhere during the conversation, Leslie had taken Jesse's hand and was holding it in her lap. When he finally noticed, he almost instantly found himself _fighting_ a strong urge to kiss Leslie, though he was not sure why he was averse to the idea. Then, making his deliberations irrelevant, Leslie stood, pivoted, and plopped herself down, straddling his lap. He barely had time to react when he found Leslie's arms around his neck and their lips pressed together.

It was as if he'd been transported back to his birthday, without the complications of being grounded looming over him.

After the initial barrage of kisses, Leslie slowed, but continued her advance. That was how Jesse experienced it: She wasn't moving much, and every kiss was lips to lips, but something was changing in her. She seemed…hungry. And the seemingly complete lack of inhibitions Jesse sensed from her were muddling his mind and clouding his reason.

He tasted salt on her lips, and his own. They pulled back a few inches and Jesse could tell she was tasting the same thing. She smiled.

_Lord! That smile._ It melted him.

"Jess?" she whispered, kissing him gently and then resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"Hm?"

"I'm – I'm sorry about all that stuff…"

The thought that Leslie could be sorry about anything she was doing was so totally absurd, he stiffened. "Why are you sorry?" he demanded. "You didn't do anything wrong!"

She smiled again, realizing his confusion. "No, Jess, because of what…what happened to you…at the hospital." Her breath on his ear was maddening, but her words pulled him out of his funk…a little.

"Um, thanks. It's over now, mostly." He shrugged.

"But Jess… what you said… Did you…_do you_ really feel that way….about _me_?"

The answer Jesse had, and the answer Leslie was looking for were identical. "Yeah. I was… thinking that I would rather be dead than live, you know, without you. My Jesse alter hurt so much, and I knew I would have, too, if you'd died."

"But I'm not dead, Jess, so please try to forget it."

"Forget it happened, or forget how I feel?" he asked.

Leslie sat back and looked sharply at her best friend: She _knew_ he was teasing, and that if she stared him down he would be unable to keep a straight face. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and set her face. It took a long minute, but eventually the sides of his mouth twitched.

"You are a terrible liar, Jesse Aarons."

They laughed, resting their foreheads against each other's. Behind her back, Jimmy was sleeping soundly now and Leslie moved to place a blanket over him. When she turned back, Jesse was patting the seat next to him on the couch. She found that curious, but naïve, and unable to comprehend the reason, she did as asked. They sat silently for a few minutes, holding hands and leaning their heads against the other's. Finally Jesse spoke.

"This is the third summer vacation we've had together. Thanks for inviting me and my family."

"You," she poked him in the chest, "are not a problem. And your sisters… wow, I'd never seen them so relaxed. Brenda looks so much better that at Christmas."

"Yeah, I think it's a load off of Mom and Dad's mind. Did you hear Ellie's starting at Roanoke Community College this fall?"

"Yes! Your Mom told me. She said it will be good for her to get out and spend the money she earned. It would, '_Make her responsible_,' she said."

"She saw us, um, kissing, behind the waves. I thought she'd give us away."

Leslie started laughing. When she saw Jesse's confused look she said, "You didn't know, did you?" He shook his head. "Mom told me that everyone saw us," she finished, matter-of-factly.

Jesse groaned and covered his face. Leslie changed the subject.

"Like my new suit?"

Surprised, Jesse sputtered. "Um, yeah," then adding, "It's what's under it I like best."

Leslie's eyes opened wide and a shocked look froze her for a few seconds. Jesse, confused, thought back on what he had just said and realized the double-entendre.

"Sorry, I meant you, Les, not…what was…covered… _Aw crap!_" He covered his red face while Leslie reprocessed his statement.

"Ok, Aarons, you talked your way out of that one. Just watch where you place your hand. I saw it on Grace's chest the other day." She snickered quietly, knowing how uncomfortable their friend's inadvertent maneuver had been for him.

"_Hey, that wasn't my…_" Jesse started to protest, but Leslie hushed him with a quick kiss and explained.

"Grace told me later she hadn't even realized what she'd done until it was too late. Then she was afraid to move your arm thinking you would, you know, think she was being a slut."

The language Leslie used surprised Jesse. He had _never_ thought of Grace like that at all, even when he thought she liked him.

"I guess there wasn't much to, um, bump into….anyway."

Leslie slapped him playfully. "_Jesse Aarons!_ I didn't know you noticed those sort of things."

Jesse tittered nervously and tried to change the subject. "I guess it will make those pictures you mother took more interesting."

"Ugh, I forgot about those," said Leslie in a falsely panicked voice and flapping her hands as if warding off some vile odor. Then she smiled deviously. "_Blackmail!_"

An hour or so later, Judy and Bill Burke walked into the game room and found Jimmy asleep in his crib and the two older kids sitting partly reclined on the sofa, also fast asleep. It was a charming and innocent scene, and one Judy knew would still take some getting used to.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: __Again I had to split the chapter, it was becoming too unwieldy. Chapter 27, about 5k words right now, will be the last for the summer between Jess's and Les's eighth grade year, and introduce a number of new, and hopefully interesting, characters._

_A very brief note about the (sexual) tension developing between JA & LB. They're teens, need I say more?_

_Yes, actually, I do need to say more: At some point their curiosity will overcome their caution and they will have to face the choices that most couples face. LB is obviously more curious about physical intimacy, though she is still developing within her conscience her own limits. Jess is more cautious than most boys his age about getting past first base, but that can be attributed to two things within the confines of this story: His fairly strict Catholic upbringing and the problems he had with the Jesse alter 'sucking up' much of his interest in being physical. With that alter reintegrated he will have to relearn a lot about his physical relationships with people in general, and Les in particular. He has come a long way, but there's still a ways to go._

_Thank you again for reading, especially those who left reviews._


	27. Part 4: The Competition

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 27 – The Competition**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Tom and Grace Jacobs returned home late Friday afternoon having spent most of the journey back to Lark Creek telling their father about the wonderful time they'd had with their friends. Though he listened silently, both his children could tell their stories cheered him; however, as they neared their house, silence and depression seemed to creep back into the car. Upon reaching their driveway, entering the garage, and shutting off the engine, Al Jacobs heaved a heavy sigh. Tom and Grace could not tell if it was due to the memories of his dead wife, or the completion of a long car trip.

_Probably both_, Tom reasoned.

It was almost nine by the time they finished emptying the car and put everything away. Then Al Jacobs called a family meeting to assign new chores and responsibilities, a suggestion from one of the Navy counselors to help keep the family busy, and together. Just as Grace suspected, she was assigned laundry duty – and knew there was no way out of it. Once, about a year before, her mother had told Tom to wash the underwear. He did a pretty good job, except for throwing the red tablecloth in with the whites - that became pinks. In addition, he used dish soap instead of laundry soap, filling half the basement with pink soapsuds. Wisely, Mrs. Jacobs abandoned the laundry lessons for her son, though Grace often wondered if her brother had done it on purpose.

After having assigned his daughter laundry duty, Mr. Jacobs told his son that cooking and cleaning the dishes were now his responsibility. Fortunately, Tom was not a bad cook, and his meals, while certainly not up to Julia Childs' standards, were usually edible, except for a couple notable dinners. But that's another story. Overall, Grace felt she got the easy end of the bargain, though both she and Tom would have accepted kitchen and laundry duty for life to have their mother back.

Following these assignments, Tom and Grace went to sit on the steps in front of their house while their father made some phone calls, listened to voice-mail messages, and looked at a month worth of bills. Grace spoke first after a long silence.

"I miss Jess and Leslie," she said simply.

"Yeah. They're a good distraction."

This was the extent of their conversation and they slipped back into silence.

They sat in the nighttime stillness, listening to the sounds of summer with their chins resting in their hands and elbows on the knees. Barely visible over the western mountains they could catch, now and then, the reflection of a distant thunderstorm lighting the horizon: _Heat lightning_, _it used to be called_, Tom remembered. From the street, the two kids might have been posing for a Norman Rockwell painting titled: _Where Are You, Mom?_ And in the distance, they could hear a group of kids laughing and giggling, _girls laughing and giggling,_ both determined a minute later.

Heading north from their house, the development they lived in soon exhibited newer and more spacious houses, and the kids from 'up there' seldom wandered into the Jacobs' middle-income district. But these kids…these _girls,_ were doing just that.

Not two minutes later, the group of five approached, talking loudly, but not annoyingly – except perhaps an occasional lone squeaky voice that sounded younger than the rest. As they reached Tom and Grace's fence, the five girls slowed, looking at them. One giggler stood out from the others, but in the dark it was difficult to see who.

Then they stopped.

"Is that _little_ Tommy Jacobs?" asked one of the silhouettes - one of the older girls.

"Yeah, who are you?"

The area rung with laughter and more giggling. Tom started to stand but Grace pulled him down. Then they heard something very odd.

"_Bonsoir, mon petit garcon. Étudiez__-vous votre français journalier? C'est la seule manière que vous apprendrez! Oui?"_

"_What the hell…?_" exclaimed Tom, and the girls laughed even more.

Suddenly, one of the five girls ran forward, through the front gate, and fairly threw herself at Tom, who had just shaken loose from his sister and gotten to his feet. She was young, he could tell, but the forty-watt front porch light told him little else…except that her hair was long and red. She kissed him in the European manner, on both cheeks - and for a moment he thought she would kiss him on the mouth, too - but she turned to Grace and did the same thing. And then, just as quickly, ran off. The group of visitors, as mysteriously as they had arrived, were heading back in the direction they had come, laughing, cheering, and calling out, "See you soon, Tommy! See you soon, Gracie!"

The two Jacobs' children stood in mute shock.

_Who __are these people?_

_Who __are these people who _know _us?_

_And what's with the French?_

They went back into the house to find their father chatting on the phone in a happy voice. Glad to hear the liveliness in him, but curious, too, Tom and Grace sat and waited for the call to finish. A minute later it did, and the cheery phone conversation and odd gaggle of giggling girls were explained.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The trip home from Duck took Jesse and the Burkes through Elizabeth City where Tom and Grace had joined them, to Emporia, with its tacky factory outlets that Leslie's mother railed against, west along State Route 58 through Lawrenceville, Brodnax, La Crosse, Boydton, Clarksville, and South Boston, a half-dozen of the South's dying towns, most with at least one store or home still flying the Confederate flag - apparently word that the Civil War had ended more than seven score years earlier had not reached them - through Danville, another charming but declining rural Virginia city, _almost_ all the way to the thriving metropolis of Horse Pasture, Virginia, before finally heading north on Route 220 to Roanoke. From there it was a short hop over the mountains and they were back in Lark Creek.

The trip left Jesse feeling melancholy. Similar wisps of depression had followed him the previous two summers, in 2008 returning from Europe, and in 2007 on the drive back from Virginia Beach. Those last two trips he could understand, especially now, having comprehended what was going on inside his brain. But this year it was different. It took him most of the drive home to discover what it was, and Leslie didn't help at all, in spite of her wish to do so. Jesse knew that at his session with Dr. Carlson in two days it would be the first thing he talked about.

_Maybe he can make some sense of it!_

Jesse was scared.

It was a fear that had been creeping into his mind since he'd woken up that morning.

_Pantophobia: __The fear of everything_.

At least that's what it seemed like at the moment. He had convinced himself that once he stepped out of the Burke's van, he would be back in his same old house, with his same old problems, with his same old family. Throughout the drive home, this gnawing feeling in his stomach intensified to the point where he thought he might get sick. He didn't, but it was a close thing. He would steel glances at Leslie now and then, which seemed to help, but he didn't dare open his mouth to talk. Sometimes she would catch his eye, but after a while she gave up trying to figure out what was going on in her boyfriend's head.

They pulled up in front of Jesse's home late-afternoon. Even before the van had stopped, May ran outside waving her hands excitedly, telling them how much they were missed. Jesse smiled and tickled her; Leslie gave her a hug.

With his feet firmly on the ground, Jesse's stomach seemed to settle and he again thanked Mr. and Mrs. Burke, shaking his hand and giving her a brief hug. Walking around the van, he found Leslie and gave her a longer embrace.

"Thanks, Les…" But he couldn't think of what else to say.

"Sure….you ok?"

"Yeah, now I am." Then he mentally kicked himself. How would he explain the anxiety of being home after saying he was feeling better being there?

Mr. Burke's head poke around the side of the van. "Jess, can you still come over and help unload?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes. Just want to tell everyone I'm home."

After another brief hug, he broke from Leslie and ran into the house.

That evening, Jesse and Leslie sat on her front porch swing laughing about all the messages they had both received from Tom Jacobs in the single day they had been apart. He had a habit of leaving odd voice messages – and usually _many_ of them – when he got excited about something. He was, however, being particularly vague with these latest communiqués, saying only that he would talk to them after church Sunday.

"At least he didn't sound down," observed Jesse, and Leslie agreed.

A few minutes of silence passed as the sun began its descent behind the hills to the west. The air was uncomfortably still and humid, and swarms of mosquitoes buzzed constantly around their heads in spite of the insect repellent both wore. Leslie's father had talked about screening in the porch, but her mother wouldn't let him. And for most of the year it _was_ pleasant, if not tolerable, so he changed his plan to installing ceiling fans. However, his plans had remained just that: plans.

"So, are you going to tell me what had your attention the whole trip home? You were very _rude_, ignoring me like that." Her admonishment came out more like a purr than a growl, taking Jesse's hand.

"Oh, um, sorry," he began, hesitantly, "I'm not sure how to explain it. I was getting nervous, like I was scared to come home. It was stupid. I feel better now." But Jesse knew it was only because of Leslie distracting him that he felt better.

"You sure?"

"I think so. I'll ask Dr. Carlson about it next Tuesday…"

Leslie slapped a hand to her forehead, cutting in. "Oh my gosh, I almost forgot. Mom and I are going to Roanoke Tuesday. If you want, we can drop you off at your appointment and bring you home. But you'll have to put up with a couple hours of shopping with the girls." Finishing her offer, she began to act silly and plead for Jesse to go with them.

"I'll ask my mother," he promised. "She probably wouldn't mind not having to run around with Brian fussing in the car." Then Jesse dug into a pocket and pulled out a small pad of paper, making a note about the aforementioned plan.

"When did you start doing that?" asked Leslie curiously. She had never seen Jesse so diligent about keeping track of things.

"It's a gift from my Jesse alter, Dr. Carlson says."

Leslie was very perplexed. "Wanna try explaining that in _English_?"

Jesse chuckled. "Don't know if I can...When we were, um, reintegrating him with me, there were habits he had developed…"

Just then, the front door opened and Leslie's parents came out, her mother pulling Jimmy in his baby walker. They immediately noticed that the kids were having a semi-serious conversation, and apologizing, both began to return to the house, but Jesse waved them back.

"It's ok, you can hear this, and it's not personal." He paused, and then looked at Leslie's mother and added, "In fact, it might be good if you know."

Mr. Burke asked him if he was certain and Jesse assured them it was fine. When they were seated, Jesse told them about the notebook and how it was part of the one of his alters' identity.

"I don't understand, Jess," Judy said; in fact, she spoke for everyone. "How can this alter develop a habit?"

"Especially a habit that requires the use of hands?" added Bill.

Jesse shrugged. "Habits aren't reflexes; they're all in your head. My Jesse alter had twenty imaginary years to develop all sorts of _good_ habits."

"And you were able to keep the ones that were good? Oh my…" Judy trailed off, realizing that it may not be only good habits her daughter's boyfriend had inherited.

Jesse understood the question, as well as the look of concern that appeared on everyone else's face. Dr. Carlson had spent much time making sure he was familiar with the reintegration process and how it would affect his behavior. Now he had to try to explain it to others.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Burke, it's not like I don't have control over myself. And the Jesse alter was a good person, too. He didn't go around hacking people up. Most of the time he spent studying."

"Studying? As in school?" asked Leslie, being the first to recover from the 'hacking up' comment.

"Yeah, I have an undergraduate and master's degree in Physics up here," he tapped his forehead comically. "It's kinda like waking up from a dream, where you only have real vague impressions of what happened. But the knowledge doesn't really exist, because I'd never learned it. I was no math wiz when the Jesse alter began to develop; it only _thought_ it was super smart. All the stuff about time travel came from a book and my imagination." Jesse stopped and chuckled at an amusing memory. "Dr. Carlson told me that one time when I was hypnotized, a doctor who knew a lot about physics asked me some questions that only a college guy would know."

"What happened?" asked all three simultaneously, immensely interested.

Jesse smiled and then laughed. "Have you ever seen a real hypnotist in a show somewhere? If the person they hypnotize is _really_ in a trance and not faking, the guy will test him by commanding things like, _never say the numbers three and seven_. Then he has the person count from one to a hundred really fast. If the person is _truly_ hypnotized, they won't say any number with a three or seven in it. That's sort of what happened to me." Jesse started laughing, further recalling one of the few amusing moment in his hospital stay. "The doctors had to videotape all my hypnosis sessions, by law, and they showed me the tape from when I was talking to this guy. I thought I'd die from laughing. He'd ask me, 'What are the first three laws of thermodynamics?' I'd sit there, not saying anything for a few seconds, and then say, '…I think those are the first three.'"

No one said anything for a few seconds until Bill tried to clarify. "'I think those are the first three.'? That's what he…wait a minute…oh, I see. You had no idea what they were, but you…no, I don't get it."

Everyone laughed.

"See what I mean? It's funny. I had just skipped over any part of the answer that I didn't know and finished with, 'I think those are the first three.'" He laughed again. "There were a lot of silent moments in that tape. But with a habit, like writing things down, it's a little more complicated. There it's more like I had a choice in what to keep or get rid of."

Jesse stopped, looking thoughtful for a half-minute, then spoke directly to Leslie's parents. "You two are writers, and you're good because whatever it takes for you to _be_ good is a habit. But you can choose to do the things that make you good, or ignore them. I think that's the best I can explain it."

"Yes, that's pretty good, Jess," Bill replied, nodding knowingly. "God knows Jude ignores all the good writing habits she's developed," he said, smiling at his wife. She stuck out her tongue at him in a way that reminded Jesse of the girl sitting next to him.

The conversation carried on for another hour, but mostly about lighter subjects. When Jimmy had nursed himself to sleep, Leslie begged to hold him but Mrs. Burke wanted to put him to bed. The two adults said goodnight, told their daughter not to be up too late, and went inside.

Jesse and Leslie sat talking a while longer, but both were tired and wanted to get up early to run before church the next morning. They shared a brief kiss, shortened further by bugs assaulting their ears and eyes, and formally ended their third vacation together. Leslie retired to her room for a few minutes of writing in her diary before an early bedtime, and Jesse strolled home, imagining ways to see Leslie in her new bathing suit more often.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Heading to church the next morning, the two friends whispered guesses about what Tom wanted to talk to them about. But he'd given them nothing to venture even the wildest guesses and their speculation ran from the ridiculous to the absurd, with much silliness in between. Jesse was hoping their friend had discovered that Scott Hoager was moving away, a piece of speculation they both agreed was appealing but unlikely. Leslie's most reasonable guess was that it had to do with Mikey Sellers and his love life, but Jesse told her no way, knowing Tom would have let Grace break that sort of news to her.

The crowded church prevented the four friends from finding each other initially, and invited distraction all through the ceremony. Only at Communion did they see their friends processing up to the altar, then they still had to wait ten minutes for the service to end. When they finally met in the parking lot, Tom pulled Jesse and Leslie aside excitedly. Grace followed but seemed completely indifferent to the entire affair.

"So what's the big news, Tom?" asked Jesse. Both he and Leslie saw the boy was about to burst.

Tom waved for his sister to join them, in spite of her complete lack of interest, and had them all huddle-up. "It's good news for you, Jess, but bad news for Les." He looked at Leslie and gave her an apologetic shrug.

"Tom, just tell them," snapped Grace, acting painfully disinterested in the entire topic.

"Who wants to know first?"

Grace tried to kick her brother's shin. "Save the good news for last, tell Les first," she ordered.

"_Ok, ok!_ When we were stationed in England five years ago, we met this Navy family, the Keanes. Five girls, the most annoying bunch of bit… _Ow!_" Tom hopped out of the huddle; Grace's well-aimed foot had connected with his shin.

"_Shut up, Tommy, they are not._"

"_Yes. They. Are… or were_," he replied in a pained voice and through clenched teeth. "And stop acting your age, Gracie." He limped back into the scrum a few seconds later. "Their mother is completely nutters," Tom glanced at Jesse, "You should like her."

Jesse laughed.

"They weren't _that_ bad, Tommy," Grace insisted, but her brother ignored her.

"The father is cool, but, well, you'll see. Anyway, they moved into that court a street down from us, into that big house, with a pool and tennis court." He looked pointedly at Jesse. "You remember?"

Jesse did remember. The previous fall they had snuck into the back yard of the vacant house and sat by the pool, making up twelve-year-old boy stories of who they would like to see bathing in front of them, and in what state of dress. Both boys blushed at the memories.

"That sounds great! You can swim there any time….right?" Leslie halted her comment upon seeing Tom's reaction to her comment.

"Les, the Keane sisters are, I guarantee you, five of the oddest girls you'll _ever_ meet." Tom thought for a moment. "Grace, how old are they now?"

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and sixteen," she supplied dully.

Leslie was afraid to ask her next question, but proceeded. "What's so odd about them? Are they…ogres?" They all laughed at this comment, Jesse and Leslie the most.

"No," Tom said patiently. "You sorta have to see them to understand. Jeanette's the oldest and butt-ugly…._OUCH!_ Well, she_ is_, Grace! And she starts college in September. At sixteen. She's kind of a genius. She used to tutor me in French when we lived in England. That was just one of her languages. I think she speaks three."

"Four," said Grace, still fuming at her brother's disparaging comments about the girls. "And you haven't seen them in years! How would you know if Jen's unattractive?"

"She used to be! The next one is…uh, Maggie. She's a year older than us, and she's…"

"My tactless brother would say, she's not nearly as ugly as Jen, but she isn't as smart, either."

Tom gave his sister a tolerant smile. "Barbara is the one our age. She's, uh, you know, sorta average. Are you seeing a trend here?"

Jesse laughed, but cut it short when he saw Grace scowling at him. "The younger they are the dumber they are?"

"Right, and better looking, too. When you get down to Terri, the youngest, she's hot…uh, I mean, hot for an eleven-year-old. She's the only one I really saw Friday. But she _was_ dumber than dirt five years ago. It's like the smarts genes and the good-looks genes didn't get distributed right.

Grace, having heard enough of her brother's crude eighth-grade humor, cut in and told Jesse his good news. "We heard Scott Hoager's not coming back for eighth grade…" Jesse and Leslie both looked at each other in astonishment and started to smile. "He's getting sent to FUMA."

"What's FUMA?" both asked.

"Fork Union Military Academy, it's up towards Richmond somewhere. Looks like his parents are taking an interest in his behavior," answered Tom. "So, you like our news?"

Having finally had enough of her brother, Grace stormed off towards her father. Leslie followed.

"Why's Grace all PO'd?" Jesse asked.

"Who knows? Probably PMS."

Jesse had to think for a minute. _PMS?_ "Oh, ok. So, um, what're you two doing this week? Les and I are hiking up to see Mr. Boone Saturday if you want to go."

Tom shrugged indifferently. He still had some painful memories of his last trip into the hills.

"Ill ask Gracie and let you know. But you've gotta come over, I'll introduce you to the family…and Les, too." He went on explaining how he and Grace had seen them – sort of – Friday night, but Jesse was more focused on his more pressing interest of seeing Leslie in her new bathing suit again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The last three weeks of the summer holidays were fairly calm, and as were all summer vacations, far too short. Jesse and Leslie continued their morning runs, played around during the day, or visited with their friends. Twice they hiked up to see Mr. Boone; Tom and Grace joined them one of the times. Jesse met with Dr. Carlson twice a week during August, and would continue to see him once a week after school started. The only particularly interesting thing that happened during much of that time was meeting the Keane family on one of their trips to the Jacobs' house.

The Keanes were an Irish-American family, both parents first generation. The parents and all five children had beautiful red hair, pale skin, and freckles. Their house was the largest in the neighborhood, and was situated at the end of a cul-de-sac that made its lot even larger. The grounds were expertly landscaped, though all four of them noticed how secluded the back yard appeared with high, ivy-covered fences, more trees than seemed necessary, and azaleas in every corner. The only real open overhead areas were above the pool, which was separated from the house by a spacious wooden deck, and at the very back of the yard above the tennis court.

The Keane family had remained in England when the Jacobs left in 2004 and had lived in the country long enough for the kids to pick up an accent, as well as a vocabulary which often needed explanation. Jesse had noticed Tom using a few British-English expressions over the past year, most of them derogatory, like _nutters_, _numbnuts_, _dodgy_, and his favorite, _cock-up._ That, however, was pretty much the extent of Jesse's British linguistic knowledge, though he was certain Tom was using others he simply didn't catch, or he'd misunderstood.

Jesse questioned Tom's description of the five girls as soon as he met them, saying the eldest wasn't nearly as homely looking as Tom had related. (Even _that_ remark earned him scathing glares from both Grace and Leslie.) Tom tried to wiggle out of his earlier appraisal by reminding Jesse, as his sister had, that it was many years since he'd seen them. Jesse did a double take, however, when he saw the youngest girl, Terri. For an eleven year old, she was breathtakingly beautiful. She was also clearly borderline imbecilic, Jesse reckoned, and appeared to exist for no other reason than to flirt with every boy she saw. Jesse nearly had to pry her off him in the pool later that afternoon and took to making sure Leslie, Tom, or Grace was always between him and the girl.

Madison, the twelve year old, was also _very_ attractive, even more so than Grace, Jesse thought with a twinge of guilt, but without the need for physical attachment her younger sister possessed. She had also been favored with more cognitive abilities and a conversation with her was possible, though still a bit on the simple-side of intelligent. Or so Jesse and Leslie concluded.

Barbara, the thirteen year old, would be entering eighth grade with Jesse, Tom, and Leslie, and, just as Tom had said, was the most 'balanced' of the five Keane sisters. She was also the first person Leslie truly felt would give her competition for Jesse's affections.

As Tom had mentioned at church a week earlier, their mother was a complete idiot, if not from a genetic defect then by her behavior, a fact that seemed to have no effect whatsoever upon the father, and very little with the children. To this assessment, neither Grace nor Leslie objected. The woman was absurd, ill-educated, supercilious, and just plain odd. She seemed unable to put a rational sentence together unless it had to do with Terri, her favorite daughter, who she declared was bound for greatness. But somehow her family always knew what she was saying, or trying to say. The way she hovered over her daughters made any social contact with the girls emotionally painful, for their mother was always present and always talking nonsense. The only time they could be reasonably free of Mrs. Keane was when they used the pool, for the mother had no interest in swimming or sunning. When she remained out of doors too long, her skin began to look like one huge freckle, the four visitors learned. Barbara told them her mother had to take some medicine if she was going to be in direct sunlight more than an hour.

"She's sort of like a Vampire, the way she hates the sun," Barbara told Jesse their second visit, while swimming. She had come up behind him and flipped him over, which in itself was a feat, what with the size difference between the two. Leslie watched all this from the other end of the pool, her eyes narrowing and her jaw set.

"Got some competition, Les?" asked Grace, paddling over to her friend on a raft.

Leslie wasn't amused in the least. She had never experienced jealousy like this, even though her boyfriend's responses to Barbara's playful advances could easily be considered impartial. When the girl came at him from behind and put her arms around Jesse's neck, however, Leslie wasn't sure if she should cry or beat the crud out of her host. She was becoming so blinded with a rage she'd never felt before that she turned away and rested her chin on the edge of the pool, hoping when she looked back that the interloper would have mysteriously vanished. But Grace took matters into her own hands, going over to them and placing herself between Jesse and Barbara, playfully prying them apart, and muttering cheerfully about how his girlfriend was looking for him The statement was enough to shock Barbara, and even Jesse a little.

_We're__ just having fun!_ The thought that his actions might have hurt Leslie had never crossed his mind.

Jesse looked to the opposite end of the pool, swam over and stood next to Leslie, feeling a little stupid. He knew he should apologize, but he honestly didn't feel he'd been wrong in his actions, and he was becoming irritated by his own lack of understanding about what had happened. He rested his head on his folded arms and nudged Leslie, deciding to play it safe.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, um, you know, hurt your feelings."

Leslie sniffled once, but more from the chlorine than injury, or so she told herself. A second later she looked at him, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"It's not you're fault, Jess," said Leslie quietly. "In the three years we've known each other, today was the first time I felt like I had to fight for you."

Jesse started at this comment. "Oh…? Well, you don't. Barb's fun, but she's not you." He leaned over and nuzzled her arm playfully. This simple action seemed to wash away all of Leslie's doubt and jealousy, for a while. But Grace wasn't the only one who experienced heightened emotional sensitivity one day a month. Had Leslie been more in tune to her body she might have made extra allowances for this. But she did not.

Once Barbara realized Jesse was with Leslie, she behaved more considerately. Unfortunately, the same could not be said about Terri, and to a lesser extent, Madison. As the youngest of the five, Jesse expected Terri to be the least troublesome, but as on their first visit, she acted as if her physical beauty was God's gift to Lark Creek. And where Barbara tempered her interest in their new friends, Terri approached it unabashedly. She was loud, overly cheerful, silly in the worst sense of the word, and loved to prove she was _mature_ by grabbing Tom or Jesse and hugging their arm against her diminutive mammary glands. But what made her actions even more reprehensible, and more peculiar, was that they seemed to be sanctioned, if not encouraged, by her mother.

Jesse pulled Tom aside at one point, ready to punch him for bringing Leslie and him for a 'friendly visit,' and asked what was going on with her. Tom again pleaded ignorance, saying he hadn't seen them for five years, which mollified (if not satisfied) Jesse. The day was ultimately rescued when Mrs. Keane took Terri and Madison into Roanoke after lunch to shop for school clothes.

By mid-afternoon, with the two younger Keane girls and their mother gone, the four visitors had established a more comfortable association with Barbara and Maggie. (Jeanette was inside studying.) Jesse could tell that Leslie was still wary of Barbara, but eventually gave up trying to ignore one of their two hosts, both of whom seemed to be going out of their way to make their guests feel welcome. When Barbara and Maggie discovered Jesse and Leslie had been to England, they were able to enjoy a long conversation on a mutually pleasant (and neutral) topic. On the way home, later that afternoon, Jesse could tell that Leslie would have problems befriending their new acquaintances; she was cooler to him than she had ever been, and even the hug she gave him when he was dropped-off was felt perfunctory.

To Leslie Burke, the trade of Scott Hoager for Barbara Keane was wholly unfair, particularly to her.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"And what's wrong with Les tonight?" asked Bill Burke. He and Judy were cleaning the kitchen after dinner. Or more precisely, she was cleaning, he was holding the baby.

"These new neighbors of Ray Jacobs have five girls, and one of them has hanging on Jesse, she said."

"Oh…. Well, what happened?"

"Nothing. Les said that Jess apologized, and as soon as the girl realized they were…uh…attached, she backed off." Judy poured scouring powder in the sink and began scrubbing.

"Like I said a minute ago: What's the problem?"

"Bill don't be dense. It's the first time another girl has really taken an interest in Jess and she feels threatened. Jealous, too."

"I still don't…"

"She's not quite as mature as she thinks she is. Finding that out can be painful."

"Ok."

"Give her time, Bill. She's going to have more boys interested in her this year, I'm sure." She shot her husband a smile. "She looks like me at thirteen, and I was irresistible, wasn't I?"

"Yep, _too_ irresistible, as I recall."

Judy scowled and returned to the sink.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The final week of the summer holidays began quietly for Jesse. Leslie took another day to come to grips with her feelings of jealousy and decided, ultimately, that nothing had changed between herself and Jesse. Of course, until she had come to that conclusion, Jesse was left wondering about his best friend and the cold-shoulder she was giving him.

The Wednesday before Labor Day weekend, Leslie told Jesse that her family was going up to see her Aunt and Uncle for a few days. (The massive clean up in the Washington suburbs following the terrorist attack was winding down and travel into the area was almost back to normal.) The next morning the two said goodbye and went their separate ways for the next five days. Leslie gave her boyfriend a glum wave as they drove off, but Jesse found himself feeling a little relieved. The intensity of his girlfriend's dislike of Barbara Keane after the incident at the pool bothered him, a lot. Although Leslie had turned genial again a couple days later, Jesse could tell there would always be friction between the two; that troubled him. Jesse also realized he liked Barbara's company, and her playfulness.

When he returned home, Jesse called Tom and asked if he could come over…and maybe they could go swimming at the Keanes', he hinted. His friend agreed and Ellie drove her brother across town. He had hardly set foot in the Jacobs' yard when Tom and Grace ran out in their bathing suits, carrying towels and a small bag of pool toys they had collected.

"I talked to Mrs. Keane, she said to come right over," said Tom.

"We'll stay by the pool all afternoon, that way Mrs. Jackass won't drive us crazy," snickered Jesse. Grace gave him a reproachful look, but said nothing. The woman _was_ exceedingly peculiar.

Mrs. Keane answered the door and sent her visitors out back after many greetings and wishes of good health, and reminding them to be careful in the water, and reminding them to take a break to apply more suntan lotion. ("The girls can help you boys with your back!")

None too soon, Jesse, Tom, and Grace found themselves on the deck, Mrs. Keane finally shut inside again. All five of the Keane girls were lounging around the pool. Predictably, Jeanette was reading a book, but turned to wave and say something in French to Tom. Tom sputtered something that sounded like '_alley cats_' in reply, and received a cross look from the girl.

Maggie appeared to be asleep on a cot under a tree beyond the pool deck.

Barbara was scrambling furiously to re-tie the neck string of her suit which she had, apparently, undone while sun bathing.

Madison and Terri were, also predictably, giggling like loons off to the left, partially hidden behind some bushes. Jeanette sat up and spoke sharply to them, in Spanish, Jesse believed, and they stopped acting up. For a while.

Jesse should have prepared better for the situation in which he'd placed himself, and he _should_ have expected Barbara's first question: "Where's Leslie?" But he had done neither; so the casual shrug he offered as a response to Barbara precipitated more false assumptions on her part than it should have. And in a very few seconds, Barbara Keane's dampened interest in Jesse had been rekindled, and _his_ interest in having a good time, in spite of Leslie's absence, did nothing but reinforce that attraction.

Tom was oblivious to all this. He wandered over to the azaleas behind which the two younger girls were presumably lounging and acted interested in whatever they were chatting about.

Grace, on the other hand, saw the exchange between Jesse and Barbara and cringed inwardly; she knew the girl was aggressive, she'd seen examples of it on both their prior visits. Turning to get Jesse's attention, and perhaps utter a warning, she instead found his eyes focused upon the still un-secured top of Barbara's bathing suit. Grace saw the redhead was purposely taking her time, if not intentionally making it so the knot would come undone the first time she leapt into the pool. In the few seconds it took her to realize this, Jesse had crossed the deck and set his towel on a chair next to the assertive redhead.

The day turned out to be the worst of Grace's life, after her mother dying. Barbara flirted mercilessly with Jesse, as if Leslie had never been there, and he was falling for it. But what hurt Grace the most was Jesse's obvious enjoyment of it. If she didn't know better, she would have thought Jesse and Barbara were dating. The girl almost never had her hands _off_ of him, and was constantly climbing on his back and leaning forward so his head rested in her cleavage, and her arms hung down across his chest, which she would playfully tickle now and then.

Grace tried, a number of times, to engage Jesse in conversation or play, but Barbara had his undivided attention. Part of her wished she had a camera to show Leslie pictures of her boyfriend's behavior.

_B__ut no, they'd think it was sour grapes on my part…_

After almost an hour of this, Grace got out of the pool in disgust and went looking for her brother, hoping _he_ would do something with Jesse to get him out of Barbara's reach. But Tom was still talking with the younger girls; she could hear the three of them laughing stupidly. Finally having had enough, Grace walked over and found out why Tom was so interested in Madison and Terri.

To Jesse Aarons, Grace Jacobs had always been a cheerful, bright, cute girl. He valued her friendship, with both himself and Leslie, and when he had discovered her crush on him he felt flattered, but nothing more. What he had not seen much of was her temper, the one glaring exception being his thirteenth birthday party and the 'interaction' with her brother during_ Truth or Dare_. She had actually frightened him.

The second time she had this affect on Jesse was that Thursday afternoon at the Keane's pool. Not two seconds after Grace walked around the shrubbery seeking her brother, the entire neighborhood was treated to a dressing down unparalleled in Lark Creek's two hundred year history. One could only hope that none of their classmates and friends could overhear what the twelve-year-old was telling her brother.

Jesse's attention was immediately drawn towards the sound, as was that of the other three Keane girls. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jeanette standing, a furious look on her face, and walking to her two youngest sisters.

The shouting from Grace lasted only another minute, and then Jeanette took over scolding her youngest sisters, again in Spanish. During that time Jesse had been ordered out of the pool by Grace's commanding voice, while Barbara stood watching, stunned by the assertiveness of the twelve-year-old. Tom had retreated, red-faced, from the bushes. And when Jesse tried to look back to see what was happening he was met with yet another barrage of shouting from Grace as she chased Tom. Jesse scurried into the house followed shortly by Tom and his irate sister.

Inside, oblivious to reality, Mrs. Keane asked if they were leaving and if they'd had a good time. Both questions were met with incomplete stutters from the boys and a no-nonsense statement from Grace that they wouldn't be back this week.

It was only a couple hundred yards to the Jacobs' house, but it seemed to last forever. Grace hadn't let up for a moment, and Tom sullenly accepted what she was saying, leading Jesse to believe he had really been doing something bad. But when she began to lay on the guilt, particularly about how their mother probably saw what had happened, Jesse knew it was something more than just your common, every day misbehavior. And topping all of it off was Grace's statement that Tom had to go to confession Saturday. The older brother began to gripe and tell his sister to shut up, but then Grace actually began punching Tom whenever he said anything even remotely exculpatory. If it wasn't so intense, Jesse thought, it would be amusing.

When they reached the front gate, Grace pushed Tom inside, pointing to the house, but stood blocking the path from her friend. It was then that Jesse realized he was about to get it, too. But Grace just stood there, all eighty-five pounds of her, saying nothing but threatening to pummel Jesse with every non-verbal sign she emitted.

After a few seconds, thinking she was calming down, Grace slapped Jesse. Hard. Utterly stunned, and before he could say anything, Grace turned and walked into her house, locking the door behind her.

The message was clear: _Jesse Aarons is not welcome here_.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It was about three miles from the Jacobs' to Jesse's house, an easy run – if you have the proper shoes, not flip-flops; or the proper clothing – not a wet bathing suit. But with no other choice, he started walking.

And thinking.

_Why is she so pissed-off with me?_

_What gives her the right to be my conscience?_

_She's probably jealous…_

That thought stuck in his head for a while before the inevitable dismissal. Nothing that muddled its way through his head came close to explaining her behavior towards him. Passing the school after a mile, Jesse removed his flip-flops, which were never made for long-distance walks on concrete anyway. He knew his feet would suffer, but didn't really care. He was far more concerned with the nasty chafing his wet swim trunks were giving him. He thought about ducking into the drug store and using the hand dryer in the men's room to finish drying them, but he'd have to take his suit off, and that made him a little antsy. So on he plodded.

After two miles, he wished he'd not been so fussy about using the dryer. The inside of his thighs felt like they were on fire and every step was painful. Even though the trunks were largely dry, perspiration (or blood, he wasn't sure which) kept the inside lining damp and ruthlessly abrasive.

Finally, a half-mile from his house, he could go no further. He sat under a tree and spread his legs as wide as he could to get air circulating, trying for any comfort he could get. But it was not the physical pain that was bothering Jesse at this point. After an hour of trying to blame Tom or Barbara for Grace's outburst, he'd begun to look to himself.

_I asked for it…. Hell, I wanted it…._

_You wanted what?_ His conscience seemed to be asking.

The answer was pathetically obvious, and Jesse felt disgusted with himself, revolted by what he'd done – or tried to do.

"It's all about…._that!_" he muttered quietly, fighting the urge to vomit. He realized that the slap was from _Leslie_, not Grace. Jesse felt horrible – physically ill with shame and guilt. He knew that were he at home, he'd lock himself in the bathroom, turn on the water, and cry. But that was not an option. Instead, he stood, gritted his teeth, and continued on.

It wasn't long before tears were flowing. The pain was excruciating, like a red-hot poker branding him with each step. It took Jesse nearly an hour to cover that last half-mile, and his only relief was that his father, returning from work, saw him and was able to drive the final couple hundred yards to the house. Mr. Aarons sent his son inside to change; they would have to go to the twenty-four hour clinic in Baxley to treat the rash, he said. But Jesse couldn't move. The inside of his thighs and his crotch were oozing blood and fluids, and he felt so guilty about the afternoon he was nearly paralyzed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Saturday afternoon at four o'clock sharp, Mr. Aarons and his first son walked (or hobbled) into church for Confession. There were not many people in line, Jesse saw, but three people ahead of him were Grace and Tom. Jesse cleared his throat and the Jacob's looked back. Jesse thought he saw a twitch in the boy's mouth, but he was more focused on the scowl Grace was giving him. He looked away, remembering painfully why he was there.

When it came time for Tom to enter the confessional, Jesse noticed he was going to Fr. _Blank_, the elderly retired priest in residence at the parish. He gritted his teeth: no one wanted to go to confession with the man if their sins had been any more serious than chewing gum in school. And true to form, not a minute after entering the confessional, Jesse and the entire church heard Fr. _Blank_ exclaim far too loudly, _"YOU DID WHAT?!"_

Too mortified to laugh, Jesse looked up and found Grace staring at him, her expression unreadable. He returned an apologetic cringe that had little or no affect on the girl.

After he was finished in church, Jesse went outside to wait for his father who always said his penance prayers immediately after receiving the sacrament. Tom was waiting for him.

"Um, so…" Jesse began, "is Grace talking to you again?"

Tom, trying to put a good light on it, said yes. "But most of what she says to me is yelled," he clarified. Jesse laughed, but sobered up quickly seeing his friend's hurt expression. He also decided not to mention the fact that the entire church had heard Fr. _Blank's_ comment.

Jesse used the toe of his shoe to dig a small hole in the parking lot's gravel while thinking of something to say. But it was Tom who spoke first.

"I think we'd better stay away from those Keane girls, Jess."

Jesse nodded, already having come to that conclusion.

"You going to the picnic Monday?"

"Nah, I can't." Jesse told Tom what had happened on his walk home and that he needed to stay off his feet as much as possible. "I don't want to start school walking bow-legged."

They both laughed.

Then Grace exited the church. Jesse's hand went instinctively to protect his cheek and Grace caught the move, looking him in the eyes. They held more hurt than anything overtly hostile, Jesse was relieved to see. He again tried to apologize, but was mostly ignored.

"C'mon, Tommy, Dad's waiting," she said quietly.

Overall, it was a dreadful ending to a wonderful summer.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: __Here ends the summer before 8__th__ grade._

_T__he church scene, with Tom in the confessional, was based on a real event which a close friend of mine experienced in the later 1950's. As a young teen, he told me (his name was Tom, too) he'd confessed to looking at one of the first issues of Playboy. The priest gave the exact response to my friend Tom as to my fictional Tom. Good old' Catholic guilt! (No flames on this subject, please!)_

_Translation:_

"_Bonsoir, mon petit garcon. Étudiez-vous votre français journalier? C'est la seule manière que vous apprendrez!__ Oui?"_

_is a rough translation of:_

_Good evening, my little boy. Are you studying your French daily? It is the only way you will learn. Yes?_

_Thank you again for reading, especially those who left reviews._


	28. Part 4: The Compliment

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 28 – The Compliment**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_A/N: I received a number of personal notes about the last chapter, particularly concerning what happened at the pool between Tom and the two youngest Keane girls, why Jesse should feel guilty about having fun with Barbara, why Leslie should be hurt by Jesse having fun with Barbara, and Grace slapping Jesse. Please remember that fictional characters will often react to situations just as we do: Unpredictably and irrationally._

_Also, late in this chapter is an extensive conversation between Jess and Dr. Carlson, his psychiatrist. The advice Dr. Carlson gives Jesse is a bit over-simplified to make it brief and consumable. Additionally, you should not consider my advice to Jess as necessarily being what a real-life professional counselor might say to him. (Mad Tom can address that!)_

_One last comment about this story, along the lines of managing your expectations. I am not writing this story "as Paterson would have written it"; it is not a story about Terabithia. Nor am I writing it because someone other than me believes this-or-that should, could, or would happen. This is simply one version of how Jess and Les might have continued in their relationship had Les not died. The sub-plots, situations, and original characters are fabricated, though most _are_ based on real-life events and people._

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jesse spent the majority of Sunday and Monday, Labor Day, in self-imposed isolation. Often, when he found himself confused with his feelings or emotions, especially ones he was reluctant or embarrassed to talk about, he liked to retreat to the woods and hills for a few hours. Or, in this case, a day and a half. The solitude of the country offered a type of comfort he could not find with Leslie, Dr. Carlson, or anyone else: It was a primal reconnection with nature, a time to regroup and fortify his emotional and spiritual stamina. As an introvert, it re-energized him. The spiritual part had been largely addressed Saturday. Going to confession had been a good idea, Jesse acknowledged bitterly to himself. He felt as if he'd somehow cheated on Leslie. Purging himself of the guilt he felt over his blatant desire for physical stimulation, in God's eyes, was a good first step.

He could have stayed home much of the time, had he only needed privacy, his father worked Sunday, Brenda and Ellie were away, too. His mother and Brian spent all their time on the first floor, and May was gone most of the long weekend to the house of a new friend she'd made on her soccer team. It gave Jesse one of his very few weekends with a private room. However, he still missed his sister; it was difficult for him to imagine May turning eleven in two months. She was almost the same age he had been when Leslie had come into his life.

But Jesse knew he had to be away from the distractions at home and took the opportunity to investigate some of his old haunts.

On Labor Day, the rest of the family was at the annual church picnic most of the day. His mother, and even Ellie and Brenda, tried to drag him along, but his father saw that he needed time to himself and stopped the persistent, if good-natured, harassment.

Early Monday afternoon, when the anticipation of Leslie's return began to build, he knew he was on the right path. Yet Jesse still pondered the question:_ What had Barb offered that Leslie had not? _Everything seemed to be focused on this one question, and it took more time than he thought it should to find the answer. There had been more to his actions the previous Thursday than just a desire for companionship, he could feel it in his chest, and in his stomach: When he finally concluded that he had made a conscious decision to do something hurtful to Leslie because _she_ had hurt _his_ feelings, it made him disgusted with himself. And _that_ type of behavior, Jesse knew, was not loving.

Late that day, while the family was still away at the picnic, the Aarons' phone rang. Jesse, dozing on his bed, jumped up to answer it.

_Les!_

Five minutes later, he was walking down the drive to the Burke's house, having largely forgotten his guilt, (and rash, too, though he had to slow the pace halfway to his destination.) Leslie was waiting for him on her front porch steps. When she saw him, she stood and smiled, and Jesse could tell that, at least from her side, their relationship was back to where it had been. He hoped his return expression did not reveal anything about how the past few days had affected him. He noticed, too, upon seeing her standing in front of him, that their brief separation reinforced in him how pretty his girlfriend was. It was an awareness he'd been experiencing more often in the past two months.

Leslie jumped forward and ran to her best friend, throwing herself at him, almost knocking him to the ground, but he was becoming too big for that now. When she felt his arms around her she did something she hated doing because it made her feel weak and needy: She cried. But she couldn't stop until she'd said what she had wanted to say all weekend.

"Jess, I'm so sorry about last week. I was being a selfish, possessive jerk. I don't want to take over your life so you can't have other friends." She paused, leaning back to see his reaction.

A little shell-shocked, and not a little guilty, Jesse simply nodded and smiled. Then he wished she'd said it the previous Thursday, it might have saved him (and Tom) some pain. However, he immediately banished _that_ reasoning from his mind. He had told himself that he was not going to blame anyone else for the way he'd acted. Certainly not Leslie. He pulled her in tightly, feeling the now familiar shape of her body against his own, and reveling in the comfort it transferred to him.

They ended the embrace but continued to hold hands, both slightly euphoric from the catharsis of discovering something important about themselves. It left both emotionally refreshed, and they stood smiling for a minute until their own child-like silliness took over and they dissolved into giggles.

Jesse guided Leslie to the porch steps and they sat. The oppressive humidity of the previous week had abated somewhat, and the cooler late afternoon breezes had driven most of the blood-sucking insects away. He was about to say something when they heard the phone ring. A few seconds later, Leslie's mother came out the front door and said that Grace Jacobs was on the phone for her.

Jesse's heart seemed to stop.

"Would you tell her I'll call back in a few minutes, please?" she begged her mother.

"Sure… Hi Jess, have a nice weekend?"

_No! _"Yes ma'am. Welcome back," he managed to get out smoothly, with the proper inflections of sincerity.

Leslie looked back to her boyfriend and asked, "So, you ready for eighth grade?"

Jesse thought she was being far too cheerful about the start of a new school year.

"I guess. I'm ready for a more normal year. No trips to the loony bin, I hope."

Giggling, Leslie leaned against him and held his arm. "You'll be fine. Did you see the bus schedule change? We get an extra _ten minutes_ of sleep in the morning!" Leslie delivered this bit of old news as if it were the _Roanoke Daily_'s front-page headline.

"I'm still trying to think about what we're going to do without Hoager around to amuse us."

"I know," said Leslie sarcastically, "it's going to be rough."

She fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of her t-shirt, breaking out in laughter, with regularity, as Jesse retold some of his nemesis's more famous gaffes and bungled pranks, many from the time before Leslie had arrived. Conversation then turned to the trip up to Arlington and she became grave.

"It's horrible, Jesse," she said with real emotion. "Everyone's afraid. Dad said the housing market has collapsed completely. No one wants to live there any more. He showed me real estate ads Uncle Brian had given him for the same house. Before the bombing, it was on sale for nine hundred thousand dollars. It's going for two-fifty now, and no one wants it. Aunt Joan said more than three hundred thousand people have moved out of the area. That's ten percent of the population!"

Jesse didn't truly comprehend the magnitude of the disaster, and neither did Leslie, completely, but bad news is still bad news, and it put a damper on the earlier happy mood. Concern for her aunt and uncle, and their family, was her overlying concern.

The conversation drifted back to more pleasant topics after a while. Both were looking forward to the start of the cross-country season, seeing their friends more regularly, and starting a foreign language. Much to her parents' dismay, Leslie decided to take Spanish, telling them it was far more practical than French, Latin, or German, but hiding part of the reason for her decision: Jesse had agreed to take the Drama elective the first half of the year with her. Spanish was her concession in the agreement.

And they both – for different reasons – avoided the touchy subject of their new acquaintances.

After about an hour, Jesse saw his family returning and had to leave. Both spontaneously turned to the other and kissed for the first time in many days. Leslie's lips still tasted of strawberry lip-gloss, Jesse noted, and he would have loved to taste more, but knew he should leave.

"I missed you," Jesse said, as he stood, meaning it more than he expected himself to.

"I missed you, too. See you bright and early tomorrow, 'k?"

He nodded, and then blurted out the one thing he had been thinking since first seeing her that afternoon. And much like the first time Jesse kissed her, the words came out a little awkward and hesitant, but the meaning was clear.

"Y-You look nice, Les…I mean…pretty."

If possible, Leslie smiled even more brightly as Jesse backed away, and he felt his compliment might have been a little understated.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Rising early most of the summer did not prepare Jesse for the first day of school. A _school day_ had a distinctive feel to it, and for most school-aged kids, Jesse included, the hour you awoke did not matter. It was still a _school day,_ and that demanded extra sleepiness, griping, and lethargy. When he and May left the house after breakfast, even the walk to the bus stop felt different. Over the past ten weeks, the path meant seeing Leslie, not heading off to classes. So on they trudged through the cool, misty morning air, to the spot where Leslie stood waiting for them.

It was the same old bus ride into school: long and, if not for Leslie, boring. There were a few new faces on the ride in, most belonging to younger kids. Jesse sat, typically quiet, thinking about how to respond to Grace and Barbara, both of whom he was bound to run into. He was interrupted by Leslie saying something to him. He didn't catch the comment and asked her to repeat it.

"I said, 'I had a long talk with Grace last night'."

"_Oh?_" Jesse squeaked out, his voice cracking. He tried again. "Yeah, uh, what did she say?"

"Just girl-stuff…mostly."

Jesse fidgeted and looked briefly her way. Leslie was blushing as he'd never seen her blush before.

"What's wrong?"

"Well," she began, hesitantly, quietly, not looking his way. "Grace said she found Tom with Terri and Madison Keane. They were…uh…" With a face now bright red, Leslie leaned over and whispered into Jesse's ear.

Jesse sat up straight; the shock was almost complete. He'd figured that Tom must have been doing _something_ bad to set Grace off that much, but _that_ wasn't exactly what he'd expected.

"He was just standing there…um, talking to them, I thought."

Leslie gave Jesse a peculiar look. "How would you know what he was doing, Jess?" she asked in a puzzled tone.

His heart sank. Jesse instantly realized that Grace hadn't told Leslie about him being there – a mixed blessing. The urge to jump off the bus was suddenly overpowering.

"Oh, um, I was…um, I went with them… Didn't Grace tell you?" he added quickly.

"No." Then Leslie narrowed her eyes and shifted in the seat to face Jesse. "Did Terri and Madison, uh, do that to you, too?" She made the delivery without rancor or emotion, though Jesse was sure her eyes were covering up an underlying suspiciousness.

"No, they didn't do anything, uh, you know…not like with Tom," he added hastily, trying to turn the conversation back to the earlier topic that did not involve himself.

Leslie seemed to accept his answer without question and he breathed a little easier, but also refused to say anything else about their friend.

Morning classes went off well, the only disruption was from Ricky Manning walking by Leslie between classes and letting his shoulder 'accidentally' hit hers. When Jesse turned to look back at him, all the bully said was, "Sorry, Heather," and walked on, laughing with a couple of his cronies. Both Jesse and Leslie found the comment particularly odd, they knew that he knew Leslie's name. They had also seen Barbara Keane in the hallway a couple times and she waved at each in a friendly manner, but neither saw her in the cafeteria at lunch when they seated themselves at the same table from the previous two years. Mikey Sellers and the Silliard twins joined them immediately. When Tom and Grace arrived, however, the atmosphere chilled noticeably. Grace sat beside Leslie and her brother next to Jesse.

Tom practically swallowed his lunch, now two sandwiches, chips, an apple, and two cartons of purchased milk. Jesse told him to slow down and wait for him; he wanted to talk. Tom gave a non-committal shrug. Then Jesse looked towards Grace and found her chatting happily with Lisa Silliard – or Carol – Jesse wasn't sure which until he found the scar above Lisa's eyebrow.

She glanced his way but her expression was completely unreadable.

Lunch, for Tom and Jesse, finished quickly and both rose to go outside until the fifth period bell rang. As Tom turned his back on the table, Jesse heard Grace say quietly to her brother, "See you later, doc." He didn't understand the comment at first, but seeing Tom freeze for a second piqued his curiosity.

"Come on, let's go," said Jesse quietly. Tom followed, his face even more colored than Leslie's was on the bus a few hours earlier.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Yeah, I _know_ it wasn't real bright. Believe me, I know it." said Tom miserably. "Doesn't help that Gracie told Les and she told you. You all will think I'm some kind of a pervert, now." Bitterness dripped from every one of his words.

"Shut up, Tom. It was wrong of her to do that, but I don't think that way, and I don't think Les does, either. Besides, it sounds to me like they lured you in, intentionally. I'm not sure what I would have done if it'd been me."

His friend scoffed. "You? You gotta be kidding. Why would you? You have Les and don't need to…"

"_Hey, dumb-ass!_" snarled Jesse, his temper exploding, his face instantly in front of Tom's. He knocked on his friend's head as he would a door. "_Wake up!_ Yes, I have Les, but she doesn't do that sort of thing," he retorted hotly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

Jesse paused, ready to accept the apology. "It's ok. Look, if it makes you feel any better, while you were off…you know, _enjoying the scenery,_ I made a fool of myself with Barb. Her bathing suit was _on_, but I had plenty to feel guilty about."

Tom uttered a quiet, "Ok, I guess…Gracie told me."

They stood around quietly for a minute until curiosity got the better of Jesse and he asked, "Do they _all_ do that?"

"_Huh?_ Oh, yeah, Maddie says so, except their mother." He smiled devilishly. "Though I don't know if I'd rush off to see Jen in her birthday suit."

Jesse rolled his eyes and then grinned. "So…you think there's a hole in that fence?"

Tom barked out a laugh. "If there is, it's probably right where Maddie and Terri were sun bathing. They don't care if anyone sees them…obviously. But…they did say their pool would stay open through September because it's heated." His face took a brief, pensive guise. "They must have some money stashed away somewhere. Mr. Keane is only a Commander, he couldn't afford that place on his pay, at least that's what my father said."

"Maybe they sell their family pictures," suggested Jesse with a grin, and they both collapsed into fits of laughter. When recovered, he asked another question. "If that's all you did, why did you go to confession?"

Tom shrugged. "Better safe than sorry, I guess. When we lived in England no one made a big deal about it on the beaches."

"Yeah, it was the same way in France the summer before last. Les and I ran into some, um, topless girls a couple times. It made me feel creepy back then."

"But not any more?" asked Tom, smiling slyly.

Jesse thought for a few seconds before answering. "Just curious," was all he would admit to.

"Well, Picasso, maybe we should go looking for a hole in the fence while the pool is still open."

"Don't call me that, bone-head," Jesse fired back; he hated the nickname Tom had labeled him with. "We'll have to do it before the end of the month."

"And Les and Gracie can't be around."

"Yeah, we'll have to work on that."

The afternoon classes passed quickly and Jesse felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. The feeling was similar to the relief he had often experienced when talking with Dr. Carlson: Believing you were relatively normal made accepting yourself easier.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Immediately following school, Jesse and Leslie met on the athletic field and signed up for cross-country. Their coach from seventh grade had moved to another school but left his replacement a note about a number of promising students. He recognized their names as they signed-up, energetically shaking their hands. He was also happy to show Leslie that there were enough girls registered to have a team of own team. She was happy about the news, but a twinge of sadness stung her as she realized she would not be racing with Jesse any longer. The new coach also promised them an opportunity to run with the high school freshman or JV team, if they could keep the pace.

"You see the girl's sign-up sheet?" asked Leslie as they walked away.

"No, why?"

"First name on it was our friend, Barbara Keane."

Jesse cursed louder than he intended and a few heads turned.

"What'd'you care?" ask Leslie, surprised at the intensity of his reaction.

"I…I just don't…trust that family," he replied. _Or is it that I don't trust myself?_ But the tone and his words told Leslie that there was more to it than the youngest two girls.

"You know something I don't?"

Jesse hesitated, desiring to explain Barbara's behavior towards him, but not implicate his own weakness. There was a fine line between the two.

"Last week, um, when Grace and Tom and I were over there, she seemed to think we, um, you and me, weren't together any more… She's aggressive, and was, um, hanging all over me. I probably didn't do enough to, you know, convince her to leave me alone." When he finished his mouth was dry, his hands were sweating, and he realized he'd probably said more that he ought. He was also hanging his head. When he looked up, Leslie had a quizzical look on her face and it confused him greatly.

She spoke quietly after a minute. "You mean she was 'hanging on you' like the first time?"

Jesse nodded.

"Ok." She sighed deeply and Jesse hoped she would say more. She did. "Jess?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't worry about it, ok?"

"_What?_" The statement was so unexpected Jesse dropped his backpack.

"Don't worry about it. It's like I said yesterday, we can each have our own friends. Let's go wait for my Dad, I need to drop you a few hints about what I want for my birthday."

Jesse stood frozen, mouth open, shocked. Leslie on the other hand, picked up his backpack, took his hand, and led him towards the kiss-n-ride waiting area, a little curious about why Barbara's behavior had bothered her so much the previous week but not this second time.

_Was it as simple as she said?_

_Was she encouraging me to have other friends so she could have them, too?_

_Other male friends?_

His momentary panic was relieved, however, as they rounded a corner and Leslie pulled him behind a thick clump of bushes, a place well known for its ability to hide necking students from the prying eyes of others. She dropped both her backpack and his, and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him hard. Jesse was so startled by the unexpected action he tried to talk, but Leslie wouldn't ease up until she paused to breathe. Then she shot him an odd look and went back to kissing. He responded better this time, until he again felt Leslie ease off a bit. When she moved in the third time, it wasn't for a kiss; she touched his lips with the tip of her tongue, as if cautiously tasting a lollipop. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was so intense, so intimate, that Jesse shuddered. Leslie stood back, smiled brightly, and then gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Come on," she said, picking up her backpack and motioning for him to follow. "Dad's probably waiting."

Jesse stood a few more seconds, feeling like he'd been clobbered by a baseball bat. When his senses returned, he picked up his things and ran after her.

The ride home was quiet and thoughtful.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Later that evening, after their sparse homework was complete and Leslie had returned home for dinner, Jesse called Tom to see if he and Grace wanted to hike up to see Mr. Boone before things got too busy at school and with athletics. Following a brief consultation with his sister and father, he accepted and they arranged for Grace to spend the night with Leslie and Tom with him so all four could get an early start. They chatted on for a few more minutes about the first day of school, but neither brought up the Keane family or what had happened the previous Thursday.

The balance of the week was generally uneventful except for a note to the Burke family from their English acquaintance, Jackie Roller, that she would be in Richmond in early October and would like to get together, if possible. She specifically asked for Jesse's presence, too.

By Friday, Grace had stopped scowling at her brother and was again speaking to Jesse, though he thought there was a distance in her eyes he'd not noticed before and made a note to talk with her on the hike. The four friends had dinner together at Jesse's house and later sat around watching E.T. and munching on popcorn. May invited herself into the family room and tried to talk Jesse into letting her join them on the hike. He didn't really object on principle, but explained that they would be gone all day and covering almost twenty miles, some in rough terrain. May pouted and poked her brother until he promised to take her on some warm-up hikes, at some unspecified future date, to make sure she was up to the longer ones. Satisfied, she tried to plop herself between her brother and Leslie but neither would let her and she had to settle for sitting next to Tom. When the show was over, Grace left with Leslie for her house amid giggles and whispers that left Tom and Jesse trading worried glances. They checked over their school backpacks that had been emptied of books and paper and refilled with the few items they might need on the hike. When everything was set, they both sacked-out in the living room and fell quickly to sleep.

The following morning, the second weekend of September, promised a beautiful late summer day. The air was cool – almost chilly – and clouds of fog hung over all the hills and mountains within view. The four hikers and P.T. began their journey with little chatter, (though P.T. would occasionally run off after a squirrel barking happily); Jesse and Leslie led the way. Three hours later, after the brisk eight-mile hike, they arrived at Mr. Boone's cabin and were greeted noisily by his pack of dogs. P.T. ran over to his on-time adoptive family and jumped around, growling playfully and tumbling with the other dogs. Mr. Boone appeared at his door waving to the band of visitors.

After an hour spent chatting with the old man, Jesse, Leslie, Tom, and Grace bade their host goodbye for a few hours and headed up to the canyon. The final mile and a half took almost an hour between the rugged terrain and the frequent stops to look at the scenery. Tom, having finally remembered to bring some zip-lock bags, busied himself with collecting some of the unique species he'd seen on previous trips. It didn't take long for him to exhaust his supply of containers.

By late morning, they had reached the pool of spring water at the head of the small canyon and, as had become something of a tradition, shed their shoes and socks and cooled their feet in the mountain water. Tom also took the opportunity to curse his shoes and bandage a blister on his heel.

On the trip up, Jesse and Tom had noticed that the girls backpacks appeared stuffed, but neither was particularly heavy. While eating lunch, they began asking what they were carrying; both girls smiled and reached for their rucksack, pulling out bundles of what appeared to be towels. Leslie threw one at Jesse and Grace did likewise to her brother.

"What's this?" both boys asked, not bothering to unroll the towel.

The girls looked at each other, laughed, and in an obviously prearranged action, removed their t-shirts revealing their swimsuits beneath. Tom, who had nearly fallen in the pond from crawling backwards when he saw his sister starting to undress, had an anxious look on his face that quickly turned into a mild scowl. Jesse's reaction wasn't quite as dramatic, he had happened to look away just as the shirts came off and didn't seem as surprised as his friend.

"I expected something like this," he said quietly to Tom. "My mother kept asking me where my bathing suit was yesterday." And as he spoke, he opened the towel and found his swim trunks rolled inside.

"Yeah, great, Gracie," said her brother sharply. "_And where are we supposed to change?_"

Leslie jumped up and started removing her shorts. "We'll be in the water, you two go find a bush or rock to change behind." Then turning to her girlfriend said more quietly, "Not that there's anything _we'd_ want to see." As the girls giggled and climbed into the pool, Tom and Jesse went their separate ways, looking for privacy and feeling far too exposed; there was very little sizable vegetation to hide behind.

The bathing turned out to be a much better idea than any of them had expected. Though the water was nippy, the warmth of the noon sun kept the four comfortable while they sat talking. And with a depth of only eighteen inches deep at its lowest spot, and too rocky for horseplay, it was relatively safe. The high canyon walls, however, soon blocked out the mid-day sun and its accompanying warmth, and after only an hour or so all agreed they had had enough. Each gathered their garments and went looking for privacy, having listened to Jesse's warnings about walking long distances in wet clothing. Grace looked at him apologetically as she walked off.

The now familiar trip home was extended by a three-mile detour about half way between the canyon and Mr. Boone's cabin. The old mountain man had given Jesse a crude map of a path to higher ground where they could find a good view of the countryside. All were game for the side trip, though none expected it to be as sheer and difficult as it was. Most of the poorly marked trail was very steep, as much as forty-five degrees in some places, but the view from the top of the mountain was spectacular and well worth the climb. Leslie estimated that they were about three thousand feet up, or almost two thousand feet higher than ground level at Lark Creek. But even at this higher elevation, no one could see the canyon from which they had recently departed. To the east, a high water tower in their town was just visible, but that was all. The haze of a summer afternoon prevented them from seeing more than fifteen miles in any direction.

While resting from the long climb, Jesse took out, for the first time in three months, a pad of paper and began sketching the view to the east, with Leslie, Tom, and Grace sitting in the foreground. As he suspected, his artistic abilities were nothing compared to what he was able to produce only a few months earlier. Seeing his frustration, Leslie walked over to watch and encourage him, but it did not help in any noticeable way and Jesse threw his paper and pencils back into his backpack in frustration. When she tried to retrieve the discarded items to encourage another attempt, Jesse snapped at her and walked away. When he had not returned after a quarter hour, Tom said he was going to look for him. But Jesse was only fifty yards away, reclined against a gnarled, stunted tree, throwing pebbles down a ravine.

"You ok, Jess?"

"Yeah, just great."

Tom sat beside his friend, remembering a time not so long ago when Jesse refused to let him wallow in misery.

"Didn't you say the doctor thought you would be able to draw again?" Tom reminded him encouragingly.

"Yeah, but it could take years."

"You have time, Jess. College is almost five years away."

"But if I want to get into a good school with a scholarship I'll have to begin submitting examples in a couple years. And I'll need to be able to 'demonstrate promise' in high school, at least that's what Mrs. Mason told me last year." He resumed throwing pebbles with more vigor.

Leslie and Grace approached and Tom waved for them to join.

"Jess, would you try something? For me?" asked Leslie.

"What is it?"

"Come over here." She asked Grace to get the paper and pencils from Jess's backpack. While Grace ran off, Jesse rose and was led back to where he had first tried to draw.

"What's this for, Les?"

"You'll see. You forgot something you told me back in June. Now sit and be still," commanded Leslie in a falsely stern voice.

Grace gave Jesse the paper and pencils; he took them reluctantly. "Wha'd'you want me to do now?"

"Ok, Jess. You've drawn me before so I should be familiar." Leslie sat on a rock a couple yards away from him. "Look at me, Jess… No, don't try to draw, just look at me… Keep looking… Don't turn away; keep your eyes on me. Right here." She touched the tip of her nose with her finger.

This went on for about two minutes, and with some encouragement he kept his vision tuned in on his girlfriend. Then she had him shift his eyes to the pad of paper for half a minute. Tom and Grace were giving Leslie confused looks but she ignored them until she spoke to Jesse.

"Ok, Jess, now close your eyes and draw."

When he did as was told, Jesse found a near perfect image of Leslie in his head, superimposed on the paler image of his pad. He began to draw again, more slowly, but also more accurately. While he was working, Leslie took her other friends aside to explain what she had done.

"Jess told me after he got out of the hospital that his doctor said he might have an eidetic memory, and it may be why he could draw so well when one of his alternate personalities was trying to emerge."

"Is that like a photographic memory?" asked Grace, astonishment (and a little jealousy) in her eyes.

"Sort of, but my Dad told me that few people, if anyone, has ever had a true photographic memory. He said it was exaggerated in movies and TV."

"But he can remember things…like you, when you posed?" asked Tom.

"Yeah, and probably whatever he looks at for a while. But it does fade pretty quickly. It's not like he could memorize pages of a book before a test." Leslie shrugged and turned to Grace, asking if she wanted to look around while Jesse was drawing.

Tom sat down again, watching his friend, while Leslie and Grace walked around and climbed trees. He noticed that half of the time Jesse would have his eyes closed, the rest of the time he would draw, filling in one detail or another.

With their time running short, however, Jesse was forced to stop so they could continue home. He showed the others his drawing and even felt a little proud of how well it had turned out. And while it wasn't nearly as good as something he might have produced six months earlier, it was much better than his first attempt an hour before. And he thanked Leslie warmly.

After a quick stop at Mr. Boone's cabin to fetch P.T. and say farewell, the four kids and one canine continued their long trip home. When they had reached the halfway point, Jesse told Leslie he had to talk to Grace and let Tom walk ahead with her. Grace continued to chat on as if her walking partner hadn't changed. Eventually Jesse had to cut her off.

"Grace, about the other Thursday…that wasn't very nice, what you did to Tom, you know…telling Leslie about him, um, at the pool."

"Yeah, I lost my temper. It wasn't a very good day all-round," she replied casually, almost as if she were disregarding Jesse's admonishment.

"Um…ok. You know, a guy can get a reputation if word gets around."

Grace stopped walking and narrowed her eyes. "Jess, mind your own business, ok? Tom's the one who did something bad, and I'm old enough to know what's right and wrong."

Jesse saw in his friend the signs that she was about to lose her temper, but he continued trying to reason with her.

"I know you do, Grace, but…well, it's not like he was, I don't know…_touching them_."

"You know as well as I do that he wasn't there casually talking either, he was…Jess, _they were naked!_"

"And what's wrong with that?" The question came out due more to defiance than logic.

"Nothing, for them, I guess, but Tom looked like he was paging through one of those sleazy magazines."

Jesse and Grace were staring at each other, both petulant, arms folded across their chest. Neither wanted to give an inch in their position.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure he was a little surprised," Jesse added lamely.

"Jess, if he'd walked over there, chatted for a few minutes, and then left – that's one thing, but he was there an hour. I shouldn't blame you, though," Grace continued curtly, "I'm sure _you_ would have noticed he was gone if Barb's hands weren't all over you and keeping your mind somewhere else."

It was a low blow, but Jesse knew she was right.

"I told Les what happened," he whispered defensively.

"Good for you."

With Jesse scowling, and Grace unflinchingly looking him in the eyes, they stood, staring at the other for a long minute. Finally Jesse looked down the path and saw that neither Tom nor Leslie were in sight. Having had enough of the argument, he tried to end it.

"Grace, just…_I don't know!_" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Please, think about what you say about people, ok?"

He wanted to end the argument with a positive gesture, but knew he'd get slugged if he tried to hug her in her present agitated state. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder and said, "I don't want this to ruin our friendship, little sister."

Grace was silent for a moment and then said quietly, "I'm only a few months younger than you Jess. Don't patronize me." She looked away and Jesse didn't see how red her face had become with the _little sister _comment.

"What?"

"I said I'm…"

"I know what you said. I thought you were twelve. When's your birthday?"

Jesse had a sinking feeling he'd missed something very big, and very important.

She broke away from Jesse's arm and the awkward position it placed her in. "I turned thirteen the _Thursday_ before Labor Day weekend," she disclosed sharply, then more quietly, "Leave me alone, Jess, it's none of your business anyway. And I'm sorry I slapped you."

Jesse stopped and watched as Grace walked on, the significance of her revelation extinguished much of the pleasant feelings he'd been enjoying from the day.

_Why didn't __she tell us? Why didn't _Tom_ tell us?_

- - - - - - - - - - -

The second week of school began as the previous year had finished: Huge amounts of homework and distractions in school from bullies. Even with Scott Hoager gone, Jesse still had to put up with Ricky Manning and _his_ growing band of associates who appeared to be acting on long-distance orders from their missing fellow troublemaker. Moreover, the physical height Jesse had put on in seventh grade was now being matched by many of the other boys, so the temporary advantage he enjoyed was no longer as prominent. Adding to that was the absence of Leslie in half of his classes, the only calming influence he'd had the previous three years. Her presence was replaced with Barbara Keane, who just made him antsier.

But balancing out some of these recurring problems, Jesse had begun to notice, were subtle changes in many of his classmates. Aside from the friends he'd made, like Tom, Grace, Evan, Mikey, the Silliard twins, and a couple others, he found more people opening up to him, chatting between classes, even giving casual waves in the hallways. These were all new experiences, and furnished Jesse with a comfortable warmth that he had only enjoyed with Leslie and few others.

As it was all so new to him, and he found some of his feelings confusing, Jesse brought them up with Dr. Carlson. However, the psychiatrist assured him that everything he was experiencing was normal.

"Jess, as your classmates grow up they start to put aside many of the petty conditions they had for expanding their circle of friends. Last year, someone who wouldn't even look at you because your hair was long might have dropped that bias and now see you as being ok."

"You think that's all it is?" asked Jesse suspiciously, not completely buying the simplicity of the analysis.

"Honestly, Jess? I don't know. But I can tell you that it's a very common situation with eighth grade kids. What other reasons might influence these changes?"

Jesse leaned back and scratched his left knee absently. "Um – I don't know. I guess that could be all that's happening."

"How are you and Leslie getting along? Still at the hand-holding and kissing phase?"

"Um…we're good. Why?"

"Jess, you and Leslie are both good-looking kids. If someone believed you two were no longer attached, they might be more inclined to strike up a friendship with you…or Leslie. That's to be expected...but I still believe it's just normal adolescent behavior."

"Ok, I guess I can see that…I think more girls talk to me and more guys to her now."

Jesse sat back further, crossing his arms and frowning unconsciously. Dr. Carlson had to suppress a laugh at his patient's body language.

"Which bothers you more, Jess?"

"Huh?"

"Which is bothering you more: Other boys talking to Leslie or other girls talking to you?"

_Is it that obvious?_ "I'm not sure…um, probably other guys talking to her."

Omitting the details about the Keane family he'd recently learned from Tom, Jesse proceeded to tell Dr. Carlson about his interactions with Barbara Keane and how it left him feeling guilty, and then even more guilty when Leslie apologized to him for her being jealous.

Again, the doctor suppressed a grin._ Welcome to adolescence…_

"Son, you and Leslie will have many friends throughout your life; you have to expect to see Leslie talking with other guys. Is she flirting with them?" Jesse looked perplexed. "Do you know what flirting is?"

"I think so. Isn't it like being extra friendly with someone?"

"Along that line, yes, though as you get older and into your high school years it often becomes more of a gentle teasing ritual to attract a person."

"So, did Barb flirt with me?"

"Based on what you told me, I would say so."

"Did she do it because I was acting, um, you know…like I didn't care about Leslie?"

"That could be a reason. Or, she might have wanted to pull you and Leslie apart."

"Do you think I was wrong to play with her?"

Dr. Carlson paused and chose his words carefully. He did not want his patient to rely on him for all the answers.

"Jess, do you remember when we began your counseling last year? We set up some ground rules about what I can do and say. Remember that? What was rule number one?"

"You don't have all the answers, and even if you did you wouldn't tell them to me."

"Close enough. Son, ultimately what matters in your life, with your choices and actions, must come from Jesse Aarons. I can't make moral decisions for you."

"Ok."

"Now ask yourself the question you asked me."

There was a long silence while Jesse thought back a couple weeks. When he finally spoke, it was with a degree of relief.

"I think the idea of having her as a friend was ok, at least until she started hanging all over me. That made me feel like I was being selfish."

"How would that make you feel selfish?"

"Because I was using her to make me feel like I do when I'm around Les."

"So she…stimulates you in some way?"

"I don't know if I can explain it. It was a…feeling, I guess, especially when she touched me or was riding around on my back. It felt good."

_I'll bet it did_ "Let me offer you this, Jess, and we've spoken about it before: When you find yourself in a similar confusing position, ask yourself if you would act that way in front of Leslie. And be honest with yourself. If you think it might hurt her feelings, maybe you should rethink your actions."

"Yeah, I see what you're saying…"

The conversation ran on another few minutes by which time Jesse's time nearly complete. Dr. Carlson noticed that he appeared more agitated than when he arrived and told him why that might be.

"Jess, I can see you're not settled. Counseling stirs up things that are usually hidden neatly and safely away. It's not bad to face them, even if they are painful for a while." Then he chuckled and told a brief anecdote. "I had a patient years ago who began every session laughing and telling jokes but left crying and feeling miserable. It took a while, but we eventually reversed that trend."

"One other thing you brought up earlier, Jess. You've told me about your struggles with jealousy: They're completely normal. I went through the same thing. When I was a junior in high school, I met the girl I later married. We dated, we fought, we compromised, we went through it all: jealousy, possessiveness, the works. But what kept us together, and what made it all worthwhile, was our _friendship_; it was very deep back then, and it's still that way today. You and Leslie shared a deep friendship before it became…you know, romantic, but it doesn't mean you'll end up spending the rest of you lives together. It doesn't mean you won't, either. It just means you've made a conscious commitment to allow that friend a special look into your heart and mind. Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

"Do you still want to be with her all the time?"

Jesse nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, pretty much all the time…except, you know, when I'm taking a shower or something."

Carlson struggled yet again not to smile as he thought, _That, too, will probably change._

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A/N: Again, apologies for the delay. Between the Thanksgiving holidays and work I have had very little time to write. Thank you for your patience, and thanks to all who leave comments._


	29. Part 4: The Reversal

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 29 – The Reversal**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Leslie sniffed the air once, twice, and then looked over at her boyfriend. "Ugh…Jess, _you _need a shower!"

He did not reply, but continued working on the first draft of a Civics paper due the following Monday, muttering mild curses about where the Federalists and Anti-Federalists could stick the Constitution and Bill of Rights.

"Are you ignoring me?" persisted Leslie.

"Um-hmm. Just a second."

Five minutes later, Jesse looked up and saw Leslie was still staring at him, her nose pinched closed, and an exaggerated look of disgust crinkling her normally placid facial features.

"I _took_ a shower this morning," he pleaded, and lifted an arm to sniff. "Ok, I guess I need to take another."

Both laughed.

"It's a good thing cooler weather will be here soon or I might go back to doing _my homework_ at _my home _all the time." Leslie rolled over and sat with crossed legs, ostensibly fanning herself for relief from the heat but really trying to get a reprieve from Jesse's body odor.

"That bad?" he asked, his face darkening a little with embarrassment.

"It's been worse," she allowed, generously.

"Yeah, puberty _stinks_," Ellie's voice proclaimed from the couch behind them. A chorus of groans erupted from the dining room table where Mr. Aarons was reading the paper and Brenda was helping May with her homework at the bad pun. Mrs. Aarons, preparing dinner in the kitchen, joined in too. Jesse and Leslie both laughed again.

"Jess, go rinse off so we can enjoy our food," his father ordered good-naturedly. Having finally noticed the cause of Leslie's complaint, he stood and turned on the ceiling fan above the table.

Mrs. Aarons directed her husband and children to clear and set the table for dinner. Brian was asleep in his playpen following a long afternoon spent perfecting his finger and toe sucking skills. Jesse stopped to look at him on the way up to the shower. The baby smiled in his sleep.

"Les, are you going with your father and Jess to see Mrs. Roller?" asked Mary Aarons, carrying a loaf of homemade bread to the table. She saw the answer in the girl's face before it was verbally confirmed.

"_No_, Mom wants me to watch Jimmy Saturday afternoon while she's in Roanoke."

The upcoming Saturday morning, Mr. Burke and Jesse would be traveling to Richmond for the weekend to meet with Jackie Roller, the famous English author whom they'd become acquainted with fourteen months earlier while touring England. Her mysterious request, asking Bill to bring Jesse, had never been explained to the Burkes or Aarons, but neither Mary nor Jesse Aarons wanted their son to miss an opportunity such as this. At first, Leslie was furious about her exclusion, but she had resigned herself to remaining home. Her mother needed someone to watch Jimmy while she was in Roanoke promoting her soon-to-be-published book and meeting with the publisher. The toddler was just starting to walk, and Leslie loved him dearly, but she still would rather have been with Jesse and her father. Or just Jesse, for that matter.

What neither she nor Jesse knew was that both sets of parents had agreed that their children had become too old to share a hotel room, even if it was a multi-bedroom suite. Leslie had _suspected_ something like this, but remained silent as she started collecting her and Jesse's books and papers: she had two orderly piles, Jesse's were scattered all over the floor.

"We're almost done, Mrs. Aarons," she said after piling their schoolwork on the coffee table. "Would it be ok for me to stay after dinner and finish up?"

"_No!_ Go home, Burke, we see enough of you as it is," Brenda snapped. Leslie looked around, hurt and surprised, but saw Brenda smile and realized she was joking. Her relationship with the second oldest Aarons child had been steadily improving since their week together at the beach, but Leslie still was not always certain when the seventeen year old was kidding or not.

At the dining room table, Leslie jumped in, helping clean and set, a comfortable routine that had developed in both the Aarons and Burke homes as either Jesse or Leslie was nearly always with the other every weekday. After the first two weeks of school, the pattern had emerged where the friends would alternate houses at which they would spend their afternoons doing homework and studying, (or goofing-around on the rare days when there was little to do,) usually followed by dinner. This week Leslie was with Jesse's family. All the tension and misunderstandings from the final week of summer vacation had been long forgotten, and both teens had returned to the easy-going relationship they'd been enjoying for more than two years. The only noticeable difference was in the time they spent together, that had increased significantly.

When the dinner preparations were complete, May bolted up the stairs while Leslie sat and waited for Jesse to return. She was glad that the windows were open in the unusually hot early October evening, to ease both the temperature and Jesse's post-cross country practice aroma. This was not the first time she had to drop a hint that he pay more attention to his personal hygiene. It embarrassed her friend, but he took it in stride and it _was_ getting better. A little.

Mary Aarons called up to Jesse and May that dinner was almost ready and they should hurry down. Jesse did, but Leslie noticed him stopping at the bottom of the stairs, looking nervous and his face red. He motioned for her to come over.

"You smell better," she proclaimed, smiling, but Jesse didn't smile back. "What is it?"

He leaned over and whispered into his girlfriend's ear. Her eyes widened and she patted his arm sympathetically. "I'll take care of it." Turning, she saw that Brenda was now lounging on the couch and went over to explain what was transpiring.

The older girl shook her head, as if too much was being demanded of her, and went to her mother. "Mom, May Belle got her…" Brenda stopped, noticing her father watching, "…you know…._thing_." Her finger was pointing downward.

Having witnessed the unusual transactions from her son to Leslie to Brenda and now to herself, Mary Aarons was fairly certain what her daughter was saying.

"_Good grief_, Bren, it's not like were at a _Squeamish Men's Convention_. Go help your sister, or see if she wants me."

Brenda left in a huff and went up the stairs calling for May. Leslie followed.

Jesse Jr. looked relieved to be off the hook.

Jesse Sr. turned to his wife. "What's going on?"

Shaking her head, Mary slapped him on his chest, a bit harder than 'playfully.' "Our son I can understand, but _you've_ been living with three females for almost twenty years. What do you think it is?" She received no response. "Here's a hint: Female. Eleven years old. Embarrassed…"

"Oh…_OH!_...What? She has a boyfriend?" Jesse Sr. asked, his facial expression vacant as his eyes darted back to the sports page.

Mary Aarons sighed, shook her head, and walked back to the kitchen.

At dinner, May uncharacteristically sat herself next to her older brother and gazed at him with adoring eyes every now and then. Jesse caught one of these glances and smiled back cautiously. When the meal was over, May insisted that she do his dinner clean-up chores. He didn't argue with that offer.

Jesse and Leslie returned to their homework, he still working on his civics paper and she reading _Pride and Prejudice_ for her advanced English Literature class. As Leslie finished the chapter and started to collect her things to walk home, May appeared asking for help with her math homework. However, unlike the previous times, she addressed her brother, not Leslie.

Realizing he would get no farther in his work, Jesse agreed. "Ok, May. I need to walk Les home, then I can help."

The soon-to-be eleven-year-old smiled and sat patiently on the couch with her books in her lap as Jesse and Leslie headed out.

"Aw, that was so cute; you're little sister loves you," Leslie teased when they were out of earshot of his house.

"Yeah, lucky me. When she told me what happened I thought I would die." Jesse shivered involuntarily. Leslie laughed even harder.

They walked on a bit longer in silence before Jesse spoke again.

"When did that happen to you? Your, um…period?"

The question was so completely unexpected and out-of-character for Jesse – at least the _old_ Jesse - Leslie thought she must have misunderstood, and she found herself atypically embarrassed and a bit flabbergasted.

_Jess would never ask me something like that…would he?_

"I, uh, I guess I was just eleven, not long after we met." She paused, seeing the curiosity on Jesse's face. "My Mom had prepared me for it, so it wasn't a big deal."

"I think May was more surprised than anything." He shrugged. "You girls are strange," Jesse proclaimed.

Leslie elbowed him. "Watch it, Aarons, I can still whoop you." She punctuated the warning by tripping her boyfriend and racing away in a sprint, laughing, as Jesse barely kept himself from falling. He ended up chasing her the last hundred yards to her house. With the head start, she nearly made it to the door, squealing loudly when Jess caught her around her midriff and picked her up. Inside, Bill and Judy watched on silently as their daughter was carried to the swing, both adolescents laughing nearly uncontrollably and Jesse comically trying to kiss her with exaggerated, puckered lips as she playfully ducked his repeated attempts.

Bill and Judy retreated from the bay window before being seen. Turning to her husband, Judy sighed, contentedly. "They're so happy."

"You had doubts?"

"No, not really. I'm glad for them."

Just then, Jimmy called out from his highchair.

"Yes, master," laughed Bill, turning to his son.

A few days later, Judy, Leslie, and Jimmy Burke waved goodbye to their husband and father as he drove off to pick up Jesse for their overnight trip to Richmond. In spite of his promises to be back early Sunday for his daughter's fourteenth birthday, the teen wore a sour face. Following an hour of sulking, Judy had to raise her voice to get the girl focused on the activities that day. It was her first solo babysitting of her brother for more than a couple hours and Mary Aarons told her to call if there were any problems, but she expected none. Jimmy was just starting to walk and Leslie's biggest concern was that he might fall forward onto his face rather than backwards onto his diaper-padded behind. When Judy departed for Roanoke at ten o'clock, the toddler was sleeping soundly and Leslie was on the couch next to him reading.

The phone rang at about eleven. Seeing the caller ID display: UNKNOWN NUMBER, Leslie was tempted to ignore it, but her curiosity won over and she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Leslie? This is Barb Keane…"

- - - - - - - - - - -

At Staunton, Bill Burke turned east onto I-64 towards Richmond, about two hours away. They stopped briefly in Charlottesville for lunch and arrived at their hotel precisely on time: two-thirty in the afternoon. The plan was to meet the author and Jason Graham at The Book Trader, the east coast's largest bookstore, at five. The Embassy Suites hotel was only fifteen minutes away so Jesse went off exploring the amenities of their expansive executive suite while Bill booted his laptop and whipped out a few notes about his next book he had thought over in the car.

The trip to the state capital had been pleasant, but quiet. Jesse read for a while, fell asleep, and woke up as they were crossing the top of Afton Mountain. The first thing he saw was autumn-colored trees and a precipitous drop off the side of the road leading him think he was flying. When a car zoomed by at a dangerously high speed, he became fully aware of his surroundings.

Following lunch, Jesse and Mr. Burke spoke for a while about the Labor Day trip to Washington. Bill related, in the same grave tones as his daughter had, the apprehensive feeling that permeated everything near the city. He finished by lambasting the President and all her ineffectiveness at reassuring the country following the deadly terrorist strike.

"Jess, things like this make me want to go back to writing about politics. You know I'm liberal, but this entire situation disgusts me. I'm sure the GOP would love to see some of the things I just told you in writing!"

Jesse laughed politely, though he found it difficult to understand many of the concerns Mr. Burke voiced.

Leslie's father then asked Jesse if he had been paying attention to his royalties from the third printing of _One Plus One Equals Three_, his international best-seller that Jesse had illustrated early in the year. He replied he had not.

"Just as well. With the economy tanking, I'm not sure how much you'll eventually make off of all the work you put into it. It may be a disappointment."

"That's ok, Mr. Burke, anything is better than nothing."

Bill Burke gave him a brief, concerned glance. "I suppose…"

At a quarter to five, they set off on the four-block walk to the bookstore. The jumble of roads and a busy intersection nearly made them late, but apart from being a little out of breath, they met their acquaintances with no difficulty. Bill shook Jason's hand and hugged Jackie politely. Jesse also shook Jason's hand but hesitated before greeting the world-famous author.

"Hello, Jesse, it's good to see you again. You've grown about a foot since we saw you in England. How are you?"

Mrs. Roller's greeting was, as always, proper and friendly. Her mixed Scottish-English accent gave an air of European elegance to the cluttered back room of the store.

The store manager and senior staff made a brief appearance, all carrying copies of books that both authors gladly autographed. With the reunion complete, the four departed for dinner by way of a nondescript sedan behind the plaza that housed The Book Trader and a dozen other smaller shops.

On the drive to Alexander's BBQ Restaurant, Jesse sat in silence, mostly, wondering more than anything why he was invited to join Mr. Burke. He was, by his own appraisal, a nothing among the rich and famous. Even when he'd been able to draw well enough to earn a very slight reputation he'd felt insignificant; and now, doubly so. As the car pulled into the parking lot, Jesse was relieved to get out of its confines and put some space between him and the adults. And he wished, more than anything, that Leslie could have been with him. At least he could talk to her.

Upon entering the restaurant, all four were quickly and quietly escorted to a part of the dining area most secluded from the rest. It did little good. Even at the relatively early dining hour of five-thirty, there were enough patrons present that the odds of someone recognizing the two authors was high. Two minutes after being seated, even before drinks were brought out, a small but steady stream of fans began appearing, first as children peaking around a column or over a wall, then as adults trying to get a glimpse of the party while failing to be unobtrusive. When one particularly shy-looking man actually approached them and asked for directions to the men's room, Jason got up to speak with the maître d'.

Jesse watched on with his first inkling of amusement that evening as the Englishman spoke to the headwaiter. However, until Jason took out his wallet and handed the man what appeared to be at least one one-hundred dollar bill, nothing seemed to make an impression on their languid looking host. After that, he was all business. A sign stating that that part of the restaurant was closed appeared immediately, and at first a kitchen helper, later a grumpy-looking waiter, prowled around the sign chasing away a number of other guests and at least two photographers. Over the next sixty minutes, the antics of the restaurant staff and patrons kept Jesse highly amused, though Bill and Jackie would, on occasion, let their irritation show by lamenting the loss of their anonymity.

All this time, Jesse continued to speculate about why his presence was necessary, or even requested. He had assumed that the English author knew what had happened in May and June, about him being in the hospital. Neither had shown the other any particular interest at their last meeting in England. But, in fact, Jesse's presupposition that she knew his artistic talent needed to be re-developed was incorrect.

As they completed their main courses, Jackie began to engage Jesse more in the conversations, asking about his family, school, and friends – all the normal inquiries. Then she asked about his drawing and Jesse saw Bill Burke's face color slightly and turn a away a bit. The explanation Jesse presented of what had happened that spring, now well rehearsed, was brief and left their visitor momentarily stunned. She quickly recovered, however, and began to ask about his efforts to re-develop the talent.

"Jess, I'm truly sorry to hear about all this, but it sounds like you're doing well now. Have you tried to draw, or are you taking lessons?"

Mrs. Roller's dismay at the unfortunate turn of events was plain to see. Jesse went on to tell her about the few sketches he'd done since then and his indecision about what to do next.

"I could take lessons again, but they're expensive, and the money I've saved so far is for college."

Bill jumped in and reminded Jackie and Jason about the economic downturn that was severely curtailing book sales and the accompanying royalties. Neither of his English friends acted surprised by the news, and Jesse suspected – correctly – that Mrs. Roller had her own sales problems.

Jackie drummed her fingers on the table for a few seconds before continuing. "Maybe I shouldn't tell you this," she said, looking undecided. After a few more seconds of drumming she continued. "Jess, my reason for asking you to meet with me tonight was business. I'm working on a series of children's bedtime stories and wanted to offer you first crack at the contract for illustrating the preliminary volume. I still have the sketch you made of us in England and it's exactly that style I want to use, but if you don't think you can do it…"

"I'd like to try, but I can't make any promises," Jesse found himself exclaiming in an altogether unconvincing tone. Jackie frowned. "I mean, I'll do my best. Want me to try a few sketches and send you samples?"

This suggestion seemed more to the author's liking and she nodded. "Yes, you do that, Jess." She leaned to the side and reached into her bag, withdrawing a small stack of papers bound in an every-day three-ring binder. "Here's a rough copy of the first books. Read them and see if you're interested. I would like to hear back from you in a month, either way. And let's set January one as a target for your first drafts, if you decide to proceed."

"And Jess," added Jason Graham, "those are copy-writed documents, you can't show them to anyone, and you are legally bound to keep them in a safe place. Can you do that?"

Jesse nodded eagerly. Bill Burke looked on closely, a bit concerned that no contract was produced. But he said nothing.

With the real reason for his invitation complete, Jesse began reading the stories he'd been given while the adults talked on for another quarter hour. He also noticed that when it was time to leave, no check was brought to the table and his curiosity was heightened: He would have to ask Leslie's father about it.

Just before eight o'clock, the car dropped Jackie off in front of The Book Trader where she was scheduled to sign books for another hour. The faces on the crowd awaiting her arrival were interesting, to say the least. No one had expected the most famous female author of the past twenty years to jump out of a car and stroll right by them. With one final wave, Jackie and Jason disappeared into the store. Bill gave the driver instructions to head straight to the closest mall so he could buy Leslie's birthday present, apologizing to Jesse for the extra stop; but he received no objection. Jesse had purchased his best friend a gold cross pendant, hoping she might finally take his hint to consider becoming a full member of his church. He also wanted to buy her something more secular; having her father along would help, he supposed.

Having received some helpful hints from his girlfriend, Jesse only had to visit the mall's Best Buy to find the CD's she wanted. He also found a book about the history of Roanoke area, the same one both had looked at in the Pioneer Museum the previous year. Nearly two hours later, Jesse and Mr. Burke stood outside the mall waiting for a taxi. Their hands and arms were drooping with bags and two small parcels that Mr. Burke identified as a portable sound system Leslie had wanted, her old one having fallen victim to an ill-advised leap by P.T. onto her desk. Thus encumbered, the two headed back to the hotel, both anticipating the next day – though for very different reasons.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Leslie's Saturday turned out to be not at all what she anticipated. The call from Barb Keane, wholly unexpected and not particularly welcome, began a cascade of phone calls and deep conversations that left her emotionally and physically worn. However, by the time her mother returned home, Leslie was certain she would be able to hide any evidence of her chaotic day. Judy Burke, however, immediately saw her daughter's wary eyes and stiff manners as she filled her mother in on the day's events.

When finished, Judy asked simply, "Now, Leslie, what _really_ happened today?"

Plopping down onto the sofa, still holding her baby brother, she began to explain why she had broken the number one rule in babysitting: Never let someone into the house.

"Barbara Keane called about eleven this morning and ask for help with her algebra homework…I didn't want, I mean, I didn't really like her…"

"Oh? Why not?" asked the mother, even though she had noticed her daughter's comment of not liking the girl in the _past_ tense.

"It's a long story, Mom… but she said she would be out running this way – she's on the cross country team with me – and it wouldn't take long. I didn't want to be rude so I said it would be ok, but only for a short time." Handing over Jimmy, who was now squirming to see his mother, Leslie got up and started pacing the room, as she would often do if unsettled. As she trod about, Leslie explained to her mother for the first time what had gone on between Jesse and Leslie, omitting the unorthodox bathing habits of the Keane children, as related to her by Grace.

"That was very mature of you, Les, and _smart_, telling Jess he should be able to have other female friends. What else happened with the visit?"

"Oh, well, at first she didn't come in the house because she was all sweaty, so I brought Jimmy out to the porch and we talked there. She didn't need any help with her homework, she admitted, she just used that as an excuse."

"I guess she thought you wouldn't want to talk to her about Jess if she said that was her reason."

Leslie grimaced. "I don't know, probably not. Anyway," she continued, shrugging her shoulders, "we talked for about an hour and then she went home. She only came in for a glass of water and to use the bathroom. That was it."

Judy Burke was certain that that was _not_ all there was, but did not press the issue. Leslie was glad of it, too, for she and Barbara Keane had spoken about much more than their relationship with each other and with Jesse Aarons. Happy that that part of the conversation with her mother was over, she followed her upstairs, asking about the trip into Roanoke; she received nearly the same disappointing news from her mother as Jesse had from Mr. Burke: the economic situation was bound to curtail sales, but the publisher was still willing to go forward with the first edition. Secretly, she felt badly for her mother; although Judy Burke was a successful and fairly well known writer, she had never come close to reaching the international reputation and recognition her husband shared with authors such as Jackie Roller.

At dinner that evening, a simple affair of soup and salad, the mother and daughter chatted about their husband's and boyfriend's trip to Richmond, speculating about Mrs. Roller's wish that Jesse attend. Their conclusions ranged from the silly to the actual reason, though neither knew it. Afterwards, Judy asked Leslie if she wanted to go for a walk, but the reply was interrupted by a phone call from Grace Jacobs. With a wave, Judy set off down the drive with Jimmy toddling beside her.

"_So?!_"

"So…what, Grace?"

"_Les!_ Come on, what did Barb say?"

Leslie knew she would have to fill Grace in on her long conversation with their acquaintance, though she was not looking forward to it much.

"Oh, well, she didn't want to talk about algebra…"

"Well, _duh_! Of course she didn't. Was it about Jess?"

"Yeah, partly…"

"Did she admit that she's after him and wants you to butt-out?" From Grace's tone, it was plain to see this was exactly what she was expecting.

"No," answered Leslie truthfully, "not at all."

After a brief pause, Grace gave an exasperated sigh and continued. "C'mon, Les, you're killing me. What did she say?"

"About Jess, she apologized for anything she might have done to hurt me; she said it wasn't intentional, and she would much rather have us as friends."

Another pause followed.

"That's a bunch of _crap_, Les." Leslie could hear Mr. Jacobs in the background scolding his daughter for her language. "You _don't_ believe her, do you?"

This time it was the other girl's turn to pause.

"Yes, Grace, I think I do."

"_NO WAY!_"

"Yep, I believe her," said Leslie more definitively this time.

"I don't believe you. _How…?_ You didn't see her with Jess, the way she was acting!"

"Grace, she explained some things to me and I believe her."

"Yeah, right. What sorta things?"

"This and that…"

"_You mean you're not going to tell me?_" Grace asked incredulously.

"Well…I'm not sure….Barb didn't tell me _not_ to say anything, so I guess…" Leslie heard Grace's exclamation of triumph in the background before she was even finished.

"So what did she say to make you believe she's not after Jess?"

"She said she acts that way to everyone, I mean, all boys."

Grace harrumphed. "I'll bet."

"Grace, you have to admit, we've never seen her around any other boy except Jess and Tom."

"Yeah, and Tom was busy elsewhere," she whispered.

"Barb talked about that, too."

"Oh? This should be good."

"It's not like that, Grace; they aren't a bunch of pervy kids."

"Then why do they go around with nothing on all the time."

"They don't, and you know it. Jen and Barb were wearing their bathing suits when we visited and Barb told me Madison and Maggie got in big trouble for what they did around Tom."

"Yeah, I'm sure they did!"

"It's true. Didn't you notice they aren't going to school with us?"

Grace started, realizing Leslie was correct; she _hadn't_ seen the two youngest Keane sisters around the school.

"What happened to them?" asked Grace, warily.

"They're going to a private girl's school in Roanoke and are home only on the weekends. Barb said that both of them had become so wild that Mr. and Mrs. Keane had to do something drastic."

_No kidding!_ "I guess… But why do they go around _like that_ at home?"

"Grace, they don't. They're only _'like that'_ around the pool when guests are not present. That's their rule. Madison and Maggie had been abusing that rule."

"Well, I _still_ think it's _wrong_," persisted Grace, in a manner which annoyed Leslie. The girl was often found trying to enforce her morals on others. In that way, she and Jesse were somewhat alike, though Jesse was neither as aggressive nor straight-laced.

"Ok, Grace, if that's how you feel."

"Yes, that's how I feel," she replied testily, then more calmly, "Did she say anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Like where they got all that money from?"

"Grace, that's none of your business!" said Leslie sharply.

"Oh yeah? I was just wondering if we have an international drug dealing family living around the corner from us."

"_No!_ You're talking stupid now, Grace. They _inherited_ a bunch of money, that's all I know. Barb mentioned it without going into any details."

"Ok, sorry," she said, and meant it.

"That's all there is, Gracie, and I have to go, Mom and Jimmy are back and I promised I'd give him a bath."

"Alright. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

Leslie turned the phone off, and heaving a sigh of relief walked off to give her brother a bath. Grace could be very trying at times.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sunday, Leslie was up at dawn, preparing to run a few miles before her mother and brother rose. _I'm fourteen_, she thought peacefully, while stretching on the front steps, _and I've survived my first year as a teen_. Leslie considered this no small accomplishment. After what had happened in her life over the past twelve months, she felt it somewhat miraculous that her life was comparatively normal. However, she wasn't so certain about Jesse.

As she started off at a slow jog, making sure she was sufficiently warmed and loosened-up, her thoughts dwelt more on her boyfriend. And her mother. And what had happened to her mother at fourteen. Imagining herself and Jesse going through what her parents had was too much and she stopped running to calm herself – and settle her stomach a bit. It was an overpowering idea – becoming pregnant and having a baby - and Leslie realized, for the first time, how completely life altering the event must have been. However, she also knew that the relationship she had with Jesse was very different; they were different people, with different motivations, interests, and reactions.

Over the summer, her curiosity about the relationship she shared with Jesse grew dramatically. Much of that was due to the easy-going nature Jesse had come out of the hospital with. The timidity and hesitancy he had shown in past years was largely gone, and this both thrilled and frightened her. In some ways, it was as if she was dating a different person.

Instead of running, Leslie walked at a brisk pace along the back roads of Lark Creek and thought of herself and Jesse together, what _together_ meant, and what being together was becoming to them both. She had never truly entertained the fantasy of spending her whole life with Jesse Aarons, yet the occasional glimmer of a possible future marriage and family did not seem quite as absurd now as it did when she first knew she loved him three years earlier. Even her definition of love had changed, or, more appropriately, it had grown. At one time it was merely a vague happy feeling, but that was now consumed by more frequent and stronger sensations that seemed to pop out of nowhere, and at the strangest times. Like now, as she walked along.

One idea that had been going through her mind, since the visit to Arlington over Labor Day weekend, was what her Aunt Joan called _deepening their relationship_. She had said it more than once on a private shopping trip to Tyson's Corner mall. And based on that and other comments she had heard from her mother's older sister, Leslie wondered if Joan might have not been the best influence on her younger sibling at fourteen.

It was Joan that had finally opened up to Leslie and encouraged her to experiment with Jesse…she would never forget her words: _"Don't be afraid to touch each other…"_ As equivocal as the remark was, Leslie didn't think that was the sort of advice her mother would have given. Up to that point, the most intimate touch they had shared was Jesse kissing her scar at the beach, an electrifying and somewhat terrifying sensation.

Aunt Joan also counseled her on kissing, a brief discourse that shocked her more than she thought it would. Visions of Marcia Conway and Robin West performing simultaneous mouth-to-mouth tonsillectomies the previous spring swam before her. Joan noticed her niece's stunned look and toned down the suggestion, encouraging her niece to, "_Give Jess a little lick on the lips. I promise, he'll like it._" Remembering back five weeks to her bold action in the bushes behind the school, she wasn't certain Jesse _did_ like it: The daring act appeared to shock more than please. And while it had not produced any negative effect on their relationship, Leslie dared not try it again for fear of giving the impression of being too aggressive, and neither had it been reciprocated.

It was these thoughts, mainly, that Leslie pondered as she reached the halfway point in her trail. Deciding it might worry her mother if she returned home much later than expected –having walked far more than run - Leslie began to jog again and returned home just as her mother was coming into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, holding the wide-awake birthday-boy. Grabbing a quick drink, she took her brother and told her mother to go back to sleep, an offer she happily accepted after wishing her daughter a happy birthday.

Even though birthday parties were not as distasteful to Leslie as they were to Jesse, she had made it very clear to her parents that she did not want any surprises or big productions on the day. Her parents agreed but suggested she invite the Jacobs children as well as Jesse for her birthday dinner. Leslie agreed and the evening turned out to be a pleasant and quiet one, just as Leslie had hoped, and she thoroughly enjoyed the presence of her three best friends.

Tom and Grace were picked up at eight and Jesse departed shortly thereafter, but not before presenting Leslie with the gold cross he had picked out for her, along with expressing a desire that she join him at his weekly Catechism class. Leslie seemed taken aback, as if the gift had a string attached, and hesitated briefly before thanking him and saying she would consider it. They also talked a couple minutes about Leslie's unexpected reversal of opinion of Barb Keane; it left Jesse feeling more uncomfortable than he showed.

They delayed their good nights until Judy Burke called out that Jesse's mother had called for him to _hurry home_. Following an unusually long embrace, the two friends shared a quiet minute watching the other smile, each entertaining private thoughts before saying goodnight.

"Have a nice birthday?"

"Wonderful, thank you for the music, and the cross."

Jesse squeezed her hands tightly and smiled again, not sure what to say.

"Jess, something on your mind?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly, and Leslie noticed.

"Yeah, right. What is it?"

"You'll think it's stupid."

"I already think everything you say is stupid."

Both adolescents doubled over laughing.

"I – I just see things changing. It feels funny sometimes… uncomfortable."

Leaning back against a nearby tree, Leslie sighed and held out her hands. Jesse took them, but looked down as Leslie spoke.

"No, Jess, that isn't stupid at all. I think I know exactly what you mean. Life is a lot more than just school and play now."

Jesse mumbled something unintelligible – he had not done that for a long time.

"What's that?"

"I said, I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad I'm back." Leslie smiled brilliantly. She felt the same way. "It was strange traveling with your father. He makes me nervous, like he always wants to say something to me but can't do it."

"That's Dad," laughed Leslie, pulling herself towards her boyfriend. "Mom and him worry about everything."

_Except money__, I bet_, Jesse thought.

"I should be going… _Oh!_ Wanna go to the dance with me?" Jesse asked, having nearly forgotten the other item on his mind that night.

Leslie smiled and kissed his cheek. "Of course I do. Is this like a real date, or are we going to go with Tom and Mikey?"

"Um, if it's a real date do I have to take a shower?"

"Only if you want to go with me," replied Leslie good-humoredly.

Feeling as if he had a perpetually silly smile plastered to his face, Jesse gave Leslie a quick kiss, waved goodbye, and trotted down the drive to his house calling out one final _happy birthday_.

_A/N: Happy holidays, everyone. I hope they were pleasant and safe._

_Again, sorry for the long delay. I worked 60-70 hour weeks all December and that left little time for writing. Hopefully the New Year will be better._


	30. Part 4: The Addition

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 30 – The Addition**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.) 

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Life in the rural mountain town of Lark Creek, Virginia, was exactly what Judy and Bill Burke had been looking for when their small family moved out of Northern Virginia three years earlier. Both were native to the fast-paced, overcrowded, high-pressure suburban life of Arlington, and both had fallen in love with the Shenandoah Valley and Appalachian Mountains while attending the University of Virginia. When their daughter began to show signs of maladjustment in forth grade, and it turned into a worrisome introversion at the start of the following year, the decision to move away was easy. The family spent a week traveling around the Charlottesville area looking for a new home, but ultimately chose the Roanoke Valley, and Lark Creek, for its peaceful, laid-back atmosphere, as well as the beautiful scenery and healthy climate.

The choice had brought immediate positive results, for the parents and their daughter.

For the first time in his professional life, Bill Burke cast away the pressures of writing for political action groups and turned his creative skills towards what he liked best, writing young adult fiction. The financial independence he inherited from his wealthy family allowed both he and his wife the opportunity to let their imagination and creativity soar. Judy Burke, talented, and interested in interior decorating, took a break from her modestly successful writing career and plunged herself into the Roanoke market, one desperate for a modern touch. She consulted part-time for a reasonably successful family business in Baxley and continued writing part-time. It was only after the events of the spring of 2007, when her daughter nearly died, that Judith Hancock Burke gave up interior decorating to return to writing full-time, and be around the house for her daughter.

Leslie Burke, having just turned eleven at the time of the relocation to Lark Creek, benefited the most from the move. The sensitive athletic child with a vivid imagination and inherited writing skills had floundered at the start of fifth grade in Arlington, to the point where she was verbally wishing she'd never been born, and it worried the parents deeply. But that changed shortly after the move, when Leslie became best friends with Jesse Aarons, their closest neighbor. It was a relationship and friendship her parents could closely and personally identify with, and one that saved their daughter's life. For these reasons, and others, Bill and Judy Burke knew they had made the right decision to move to Lark Creek.

There was, however, one serious drawback with leaving Arlington: their child's education. Arlington County boasted one of the top public school systems in the entire country. It was well funded, all teachers were accredited, the facilities were excellent, and the social and cultural benefits of the region were second to none.

Lark Creek, on the other hand, ranked its schools in the bottom quarter of Virginia's public education system. The classes were overcrowded, the buildings dilapidated, the teachers were often a scratch team thrown together in late August, and discipline was nearly nonexistent. (The only area in which Lark Creek and the surrounding county could boast dominance was with the dubious distinction of having the highest teen-pregnancy rate in the state.)

These were serious concerns that Judy and Bill Burke had hoped could be addressed through private educational institutes. Unfortunately, shortly upon arriving at their new home, they learned that the only quality private school nearby was closing at the end of Leslie's fifth grade year. The next closest institution, the Woodrow Wilson Academy in Roanoke, was too far away for a daily commute. Woo-Woo, as the school was commonly known, also offered boarding to a limited number of students, but Bill and Judy knew Leslie would never agree to such an arrangement.

By the time sixth and then seventh grade rolled around, the parents realized Leslie's social attachments in Lark Creek would not allow a change; and to the relief of all, there were no outward signs that their daughter's education was suffering. She was top in her class in most subjects and was starting eighth grade with three high school level advanced courses: English, Algebra, and Civics.

This left only one area of concern to the parents in regard to her schooling: discipline.

Judy and Bill learned from their closest neighbor, Mary and Jesse Aarons, that there were problems at the school. While it had (so far) avoided the scourge of gangs, bullying and physical intimidation had run nearly unchecked the school for years. Much of the cause for these problems was the poor economic situation in the area, not the Principal, the usual scapegoat for such issues. Many families needed both parents working to survive, or, as in the Aarons' family situation, the father needed to work far from home. Lack of adult guidance and supervision for borderline delinquents fed the problem, and there was no easy answer; indeed, at times it seemed hopeless.

Leslie had personally experienced some of these problems her first year, and was able to work through many of them. She also witnessed the problems Jesse Aarons had with specific students, and listened to stories of many unpleasant events from the years before she arrived. Seventh grade, for both Leslie and Jesse, had been relatively quiet, though Leslie was submitted to other types of persecution while working at the high school spring musical. Before that point, she had only _thought_ she understood what the term _Sexual Harassment_ meant: Now she knew.

As eighth grade began for Leslie and Jesse, both had high hopes that being among the oldest students in the school would provide some immunity from the bullying and intimidation that had nagged them in the past. Additionally, the news that Scott Hoager, their class's chief troublemaker, had transferred, brought instant ecstasy to much of the school, not just Jesse and Leslie and their class. However, waiting in the wings were others, ready and eager to show the school that they could be just as rude, just as annoying, just as mean as Hoager.

Gary Fulcher and Ricky Manning had been the quiet sidekicks to Scott Hoager for years, and though Fulcher had been at the school longer, it was Manning who began to lead where Hoager had left off. The intimidation he promoted was subtler than it had ever been, and laced with a streak of animosity which only an adolescent could devise. However, Manning was half a head shorter than Jesse was, and decided to make the young teen's life miserable through his girlfriend.

The plans to get to Jesse Aarons through Leslie Burke began the first day of school and were executed patiently and deceptively over the following weeks. Whether through a rough jostle in the hallway between classes, the uncomfortable trips to her locker where she could feel herself being watched, or the repeated – and still unexplained – references to her as "Heather," the bully's plan was succeeding to unnerve Leslie. When Jesse or another male friend was nearby, Leslie felt secure, but by the second week in October, she was starting to get jumpy and pulling up defensively at any loud or unexpected noise. She refused to bring up the issue with her parents, believing, however incorrectly, that she could weather the storm on her own. But by the time of the eighth grade dance/party on the last Friday in October, Leslie was seriously considering bailing out of the much-anticipated event.

Jesse would hear none of it.

The day before the party, Jesse called together his two closest male friends, Tom Jacobs and Mikey Sellers, and told them about Leslie's problem. All three boys agreed that one of them would stay near their friend at all times the next evening. Tom even brought four small whistles with him the following day, one for each of them and Leslie, to be used if they found themselves in trouble. Mikey thought they were all overreacting but went along with the plan. At the same time, Jesse explained to Leslie what would be going on and she thanked her friends for their concern, but also expressed doubt that anything would happen at such a public event.

Leslie _hoped_ more than _felt_ she was correct in this assessment.

The evening began well and Leslie felt relaxed and completely safe for the first time in weeks. She, Jesse, and Mikey met at Tom and Grace's house where Mr. Jacobs would be driving them all to school together. The four friends pocketed their whistles, hoping they would not be needed, and sat chatting until seven o'clock.

To the surprise of all, Grace ran down the stairs as the others were about to prepare to leave and opened the front door where their fellow eight-grader, Mark Tobin, was standing, his hand just about to knock on the door. Grace waved, took Mark's hand, and walked out to his parent's car. They all turned towards Tom.

"Don't look at me, she doesn't tell me anything," he pleaded.

Jesse continued to gape through the open door. He had suspected Grace was hanging around with one of their classmates since early in the summer when they were hiking in the mountains and she alluded to it, albeit vaguely. Behind him, Jesse heard Tom question his father on this very subject and received confirmation of his suspicion with Mr. Jacob's answer. Shortly thereafter, the four teens climbed into the Jacob's SUV and started off for school and the party/dance. The brief distraction that Grace provided was sufficient to divert them from their original preoccupation of watching over Leslie and led to some wild speculation in the car that amused Mr. Jacobs greatly.

In the gymnasium a quarter hour later, the four friends mingled with their classmates; Jesse, Tom, and Mikey hanging around the snack table with most of the male attendees, and Leslie in the center of the gym with a few of her cross country teammates. Jesse looked to his friend frequently, feeling more like a bodyguard than a date, and finally told Tom and Mikey that he'd watch out for Fulcher and Manning for a while. They immediately headed over to the gym entrance through which Lisa and Carl Silliard had just arrived.

By seven thirty, Jesse was sick of looking over his shoulder and scrutinizing every new person arriving. He stopped pretending to mingle and joined Leslie at a table where she was listening to highly animated stories being told by Ellie Conway, the younger sister of Marcia Conway. The eight grader was nothing like her older sister, Jesse was quick to realize, and she seemed to enjoy divulging unknown stories of stage disasters her elder sibling had taken part in over the years. No one was more amused by these anecdotes than Leslie, and Jesse grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat between her and another girl he realized, too late, was Barb Keane. She said hello in a friendly manner, but Jesse was too stunned to reply. He sat, open-mouthed, blinking, and feeling stupid. It was the first time he had been physically close to the Irish-American girl since the debacle at the Keane's pool two months earlier and he instantly began to sweat. Under the table, however, he felt Leslie take his hand. When he looked at her, she smiled brilliantly and he forgot about everything else.

At eight o'clock the music started, provided by – Jesse saw – the same DJ as the previous year. Leslie immediately took his hand and led him to the center of the gym and started dancing. Completely mesmerized by his girlfriend and her smooth, comfortable and confident moves, it took Jesse a few minutes to realize they were one of only two couples dancing, but he didn't care. After a few more numbers, their fellow eighth graders, who were far less inhibited than they were a year before, joined en masse. Tom and Mikey were with Lisa and Carol, Jesse saw Grace on the far side of the gym trying unsuccessfully to drag Mark onto the floor. He caught a glimpse of Barb Keane in the distance, moving smartly to the music with a hidden companion. The first set of songs ended with a long, slow number by Brittany Spears that had become popular after her second drug rehab ended a few months earlier. It was quiet, moving, and filled with feeling – very different from what she had produced earlier in her troubled career. Jesse held Leslie tightly and swayed to the music, listening to the words that spoke of starting over.

The fears of trouble that Friday evening appeared to be unfounded as ten o'clock approached and the party came to a close. Neither Fulcher nor Manning had appeared and both Jesse and Leslie agreed that they had had a wonderful time. Even the uncomfortably warm gymnasium would not spoil their mood as Leslie, Grace, and Barb Keane walked off to the girl's bathroom before they headed out to the parking lot where their respective rides were scheduled to pick them up.

Jesse stood with Tom and Mikey, all three trying to scoop some cooler air into their sweat-stained t-shirts, when they heard a commotion coming from the direction in which the girls had just walked; a few seconds later it was followed by a short, sharp tweet of a whistle. _One of Tom's whistles!_ All three boys instantly ran towards the girl's bathroom; behind them could be heard the sounds of adults calling out, and others scrambling on the wood floor. As they sprinted across the gym, Jesse cursed aloud that he had let Leslie wander so far away.

The sight they found as they approached the bathroom turned out to be more humorous that frightening. All three girls exited the bathroom soaked, to varying degrees, from head to foot; Barb and Leslie looked furious, with their arms crossed angrily across their chest. Grace, the least wet, looked more relieved that she had received a cool dousing.

"What happened?" Jesse asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Someone was waiting for me with a hose, I heard them just before the water came on say, 'There's Burke'. Barb and Gracie just got in the way. Sorry," she finished, looking at the other two girls. Barb was particularly annoyed; she had gone through some trouble to put her hair up and it was now soaked and hanging around her shoulders. She stood silently, fuming. Jesse gave her an awkward sympathetic smile which she appeared to ignore.

Three adults approached at that point and received the same explanation from the girls. By the time Leslie had finished this second telling, much of her anger was gone and she joked Jesse about how he needed the rinse-off more than she did. He smiled but was still irritated by his lapse in care. Following a couple minutes of further questioning, the adults concluded, as had Jesse and Leslie, that there was no real proof that the prank _was_ aimed at her. Even the voice Leslie had heard, upon further reflection, may have been simply commenting on who was there, not directed towards her as a specific target. In addition, none of the girls recognized the voice.

A short while later, Jesse and Leslie were standing outside scanning the parking lot for their ride. Mr. Jacobs had picked up Tom and Grace precisely at ten o'clock, and Barbara Keane, still looking irritated, was driven home by her companion's sister. Mikey was the last of their immediate friends to leave; he had been standing around quietly, looking a bit shocked, after one of the Silliard twins gave him a peck on the cheek as she was leaving. Now he and most of the students were gone, leaving a dozen or so stragglers, including Leslie, shivering in the cool night air. Jesse stood with an arm around her shoulder, wishing he had brought a jacket to offer her.

When Mr. Burke picked them up a short time later, he had a number of questions about his drenched daughter that she skillfully put-off answering until home, and in spite of the end to the evening, Leslie made sure Jesse knew she had had a wonderful time. He, too, reflected these sentiments and they parted with plans to hike to Mr. Boone's cabin the following day.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Saturday morning came far too early for Jesse Aarons, but his fatigue was quickly supplanted by curiosity. His father had awoken him and told him to get his work clothes on, it was going to be a busy day. He looked at his watch, it read six o'clock – the sun was barely lightening the gloomy late-October morning. This was not a good sign. Whenever he was awoken this early on a Saturday his father had some plans that usually encompassed the entire day.

_So much for spending the day with Leslie!_

A few minutes later, Jesse stumbled down the stairs, grabbed an apple from the table, and walked out the front door looking for the source of an unfamiliar noise. He was greeted by a completely unexpected site: The drive was filled with seven or eight private cars and pickups and two large flatbed trucks, one packed with a huge assortment of building materiel, the other holding roofing trusses. On the lawn, his father, Mr. Burke, and a dozen other men and boys were unloading the trucks and carrying the materiel to the back yard, (the slope behind the house being too steep for the large trucks), even as more help arrived.

"Guess we aren't hiking today," a voice said from behind. Jesse turned and saw Leslie, herself weary-eyed, on the porch swing trying heroically to look pleased to be up so early.

"Do you know what's going on?" asked Jesse as he saw his father beckon to him.

"Nope, Dad just said to stay out of the way. I guess this isn't girl stuff," she added with a smile.

Jesse laughed.

"I'm sure we can find something for you to do."

Just then, Mr. Aarons' voice boomed out, "Jess, get down here!" and with a grimace he jumped off the porch. He laughed again a second later when he heard his mother telling Leslie she needed help and to join her in the kitchen.

It only took an hour for the growing throng of men to move everything to the back of the house and stack it neatly. There were piles of lumber in a number of different sizes and shapes, small mountains of plywood for the floors, walls and roof, rolls of tar paper, packages of shingles, box after box of eight different types of nails, framed windows and doors, tubes of liquid nails, tools of all sorts spread out on the ground, a portable generator that powered an air compressor, and scores of other items each laid out and ready for use. Stacks of gypsum wallboard and buckets of drywall compound waited with the new bathtub, toilet, and sink for their turn to be used.

During all this, and between introductions with the visitors, Jesse learned that his weekend would be spent building an addition – a badly needed addition – onto their house. The prospect of two new rooms and another full bath took care of any lingering irritation he harbored over the spoiled plans for the day. And, in any event, Leslie _was_ nearby and he was getting a better workout than he would have by hiking in the mountains.

Shortly after the actual construction began, Jesse noticed that a petite (and seemingly out-of-place) woman was always hovering over the table draped with drawings, he supposed, of the addition. She would go to and from the table, looking at the blueprints, and then take out a level or tape measure or some other instrument attached to her thick belt, and scribble a note or give instructions to some of the workers who would then follow the directions. Jesse's father spent as much time speaking with this woman as moving lumber or helping with construction.

At seven thirty, Mary Aarons appeared with her inconvenienced looking older daughters and Leslie trailing behind, each carrying trays of breakfast foods, coffee and cups, or some other item. Over three trips in and out of the house, they placed everything for the morning meal on a large, jury-rigged table and all activity halted while the workers took a brief break. The men quaffed what seemed to be gallons of coffee and juice, laughing and talking as if it were a family reunion.

As Jesse gnawed on a bagel, Leslie joined him and the two moseyed over to the makeshift table that held plans for the addition. Mr. Aarons appeared a minute later.

"Surprised?" he asked his son in his usual gruff voice.

"Yeah, but this is great!" answered Jesse enthusiastically. His father's mouth twitched into a smile.

"We've needed this for a while, and with the baby we're just too crowded." Jesse Sr. looked at his son, now nearly as tall as himself, and asked, "Which room would you like?"

Beaming, Jesse pointed to the last room on the extension of the hallway, the corner room overlooking the woods.

"It's not the bigger of the two," the father pointed out.

Jesse smiled. "I know, but it has the better view."

"Ok, son, it's yours." Clapping Jesse on his back, Mr. Aarons walked off to meet another group of men arriving. They were all carrying what looked to Jesse like piping and plumber's equipment.

As the morning progressed, Jesse learned that most of the men helping were farmers or other clients his father had worked with over the past two years: Jesse Aarons Sr. was now enjoying the benefits of being an honest sales representative to these planters. With the agricultural economy suffering from drought the past few years, shaving a few thousand dollars from the price of new and expensive farm equipment kept this proud group of independent growers out of bankruptcy. It was something these men were not about to forget. Many had brought their son or sons with them, all hard-working boys who showed no sign of being putout by the early start to the day. The youngsters ranged in age from ten to seventeen, the older ones working extra hard when Leslie, Brenda, or Ellie were around, something that greatly amused Mr. and Mrs. Aarons. Jesse, not quite as entertained, made sure that when Leslie was present he held her hand.

The old concrete deck behind the house would serve as the foundation to the addition and allowed the workers no lost time waiting for newly poured concrete to set. The plumbers and electricians went to work inside the house while everyone else cleared and cleaned the mossy surface of the deck, sorted the lumber, removed the clapboard siding from the rear of the house, or performed any one of the hundred tasks necessary for construction. Every thirty minutes or so, someone would disappear and then return a while later with a tool or bag of something forgotten. By late morning, much of the electrical and plumbing preparations were complete, the deck was looking like newly poured concrete, and there were two gaping holes in the back wall of the house. As the noon fire siren sounded in town, Jesse's mother and sisters brought out lunch and worked again stopped.

Tom and Grace Jacobs, along with their father, appeared when work resumed that afternoon. Grace ran off with Leslie and May to help inside; Tom joined Jesse and some others wrestling with a pile of lumber.

"My Dad called to ask yours about something. When he found out what was going on he volunteered us," explained Tom, as he, Jesse and five others lifted and carried one of the trusses that would form the roof.

Over the course of the day, Jesse had noticed one of the older men limping here and there, with a perpetual scowl on his face; he seemed to do nothing other than make an occasional comment and frown. It was not until one of the large four-by-four corner posts nearly fell, and the man started hollering, that Jesse asked his father what he was doing.

"That's Earl Web. Almost no one has a hard hat." Jesse Sr. tapped his uncovered head. "He's playing lifeguard, making sure no one is hurt. I worked with him about twenty years ago – his back was broken in an accident and he's had to live on disability since then. He's kind of a pain in the ass, invites himself to these sorts of parties, and tries to keep an eye on potential problems. If Bob Stein had listened to him a few minutes ago, that post might not have started falling." Scratching his unshaven, stubbled chin, the senior Aarons walked off, called all work to a halt, and reminded everyone of the need for safety. Mr. Web leaned against the house and listened. When Jesse's father finished, Mr. Web almost smiled.

Once the framing was well under way it was not long before it was time to erect the roof trusses. The hill upon which the house rested made it easy to lift each truss to a half-dozen men on the roof who then carried it over the existing structure and set it in place. It was no easy task, walking without safety harnesses on the newly erected narrow frame, but no one fell and the most serious injury was a hammered thumb. Temporary framing held each of the trusses in place until all were added, then a group of the most experienced men went to work leveling, squaring, and permanently fastening each until all were attached. Plywood, already covering much of the exterior walls, was now added to the roof and by late afternoon the addition began to look like a real part of the house.

The work was scheduled to continue the following afternoon and most of the help left before dinner. After the evening meal, Mr. Aarons handed his son two books, one about plumbing the other about electricity.

"We're doing most of the interior wiring and plumbing, Jess. Do you have a preference?"

Stunned, and more worried about leaking pipes than blown circuits, Jesse chose the book on wiring and went to the couch with Leslie to see what needed to be done. A few minutes later, his mind swimming with cautions about wire gauges and safety codes, Jesse retrieved a pad of paper and began sketching the layout of the new rooms and where the outlets would go. Following an hour of work, he showed the plan to his father who approved it with only minor changes.

"Good work, Jess. Hang on to this and show it to Billy Tanner tomorrow; he'll make the connections to the breaker panel. You can do the wiring after we've roughed out the rooms."

Tired, but feeling satisfied by what had been accomplished that day, Jesse walked Leslie home, happily ignoring her playful comments about him needing a shower.

"You never quit, do you?" he asked sheepishly, placing an arm around her shoulder so she could experience the full strength of her complaint.

Leslie squealed and ducked out from under his arm, only to find herself being picked-up from behind and carried the last hundred yards to her house. The feel of Jesse's arms around her was distracting enough that she forgot about her earlier objections.

"Jess, stop, please," Leslie said as they approached the last pine tree separating the drive from her house. Thinking he was hurting her, Jesse set Leslie down and apologized.

"No, it's ok, Jess, I just wanted a minute with you before…" she thumbed at her hidden house, "…we could be seen."

Ahead of any answer he could give, Leslie threw her arms around Jesse's neck, stood up on her toes, and kissed him full on the mouth. He returned it more enthusiastically than he had in a while. Without thinking, Jesse put his arms around Leslie's waist and pulled her closer. He liked the feel of her body against his own, and he loved the way her soft lips touched his. However, after a few seconds Jesse realized that Leslie was not _just_ pressing her lips against his; this was not the typical kiss they had shared for over a year: She was giving him many shorter kisses that seemed to multiply the wonderful feeling spreading through him. He tried to mimic what she was doing, but they were not quite in synch, not that either cared.

A few minutes of this activity left Jesse feeling and odd combination of warmth, affection, and something very powerful, but not quite definable, stirring within him. He was – and he felt Leslie was – breathing heavily as a new wave of perspiration came flooding over him. In the back of his head, a little voice was telling him to say good night. He didn't want to. But he did.

He heard Leslie sigh as he pulled away and saw that her cheeks were flushed.

_Now THAT'S a kiss_, she thought silently, and seeing her boyfriend knew _he_ was thinking exactly the same thing.

"Church tomorrow?" Jesse asked as he slowly backed away. The question seemed to startle Leslie, as if anything religious was nowhere near her conscious thought processes.

She made a snap decision.

"Yes, and can I come to your R.E. class, too?"

Now it was Jesse's turn to be startled.

"Um, sure. We'll pick you up at eight, 'k?"

Leslie smiled and started backing away, waving. Then she turned and ran to her house. Jesse could hear her leap up the front steps in a single bound, the squeaky screen door open, close, and then she was gone.

Starting home, Jesse paced himself, breathing deeply and trying to calm down. He had to think: He had to try to figure out what had just happened to himself and to his friendship with Leslie Burke. They had just shared a closeness, not unlike others between them, but far more powerful and emotionally evocative than he was used to.

_Was it just the kissing?_

_Was it their bodies touching?_

Jesse was not at all certain. Most of him felt wonderful, alive, eager to see his girlfriend again - right that second! A little bit, however, that pesky voice again, said to cool off and go home to take a shower. A cold shower. He knew he had heard _that_ expression before: Take a cold shower… but where?

Instead, Jesse ignored both impulses and ran back to his house to where his father was doing some late work on the addition. He stopped right next to him, breathing more heavily than he would normally have. His father noticed and gave him a look.

"Jess," he nodded, acknowledging his son, who just smiled back. "What're you up to? You and Leslie been off necking?" Mr. Aarons knew full well that was exactly what had been going on, if for no other reason than seeing remnants of Leslie's glittery lip-gloss all around his son's mouth.

That was when Jesse remembered: It was a talk with his father many months ago, when he'd been told about these same feelings he was experiencing now. He, Jesse's father, had told him to take a cold shower when certain reactions and thoughts persisted.

_Is it that obvious?_ Pondered Jesse, in abject humiliation. His face fell.

"Jess, nothing wrong with a little necking," Jesse Aarons Sr. said kindly and placing a hand on his son's shoulder, but not letting his smile show. "Why don't you shower and turn in for the night? We have another busy day tomorrow."

_A reprieve!_

"Um, ok, Dad…oh, can Leslie come to R.E. with me tomorrow? She said she wanted to."

Surprised, but very pleased, his father assented and Jesse ran off with still more things to think about.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sunday morning found Jesse and Leslie both thinking back on the evening before. Jesse had concluded, after much thought, that they had done nothing wrong, but he was also confused about why he still felt guilty for feeling so good. Leslie, who never entertained any doubt or guilt about their little snog behind the tree, cheerfully greeted Jesse when he and his father picked her up.

Jesse Aarons Sr. noticed nothing different about the two kids as they drove to church. _The two adolescents_, he reminded himself. He was not certain about Leslie, but he knew that if anything had happened the night before which went beyond kissing, his son would have show it in his behavior towards his friend. He continued driving on wordlessly, listening to the two kids chatter.

Whatever it was Leslie Burke had envisioned of her first experience in a Catholic Religious Education class, that Sunday morning shattered all her expectations. She found herself frustrated, amused, concerned, embarrassed, but mostly confused. The teacher was pleasant and told jokes between parts of the lesson; she was friendly to Leslie, too, and particularly welcoming. However, aside from feeling accepted, much of what was spoken about that day went clear over her head. She could understand the lesson, it was on the differences between saints and souls, (that weekend being the feasts of All Saints and All Souls), but the purpose of the entire class mystified her. She kept asking Jesse questions until he had to shush her; thereafter, she sat silent, trying to understand how her boyfriend could find this information interesting, let alone important.

When the lesson was finished, there was a thirty-minute break before the start of Mass. Jesse and Leslie stayed behind with Tom Jacobs, who was also in the class, and talked about religion and faith. Leslie had an unending stream of questions than neither boy could always answer.

"How do you know God exists?"

"Why does he do bad things to good people and good things to bad people?"

"If there is a heaven, do I have to be Catholic to get in?"

The inquiries went on until the bells announced the imminent start of Mass. Grace appeared at the door and dragged her brother off to their usual pew, Jesse and Leslie, too, departed to sit with the rest of the Aarons family. Jesse was perfectly happy that his friend had come, but knew it would take a long time for her to understand his faith, and she had to understand it – or think she understands it – before she would accept it. He had one idea that might help her along, but he would have to think long and hard about it.

At noon, the helpers from the previous day reappeared at the Aarons' house and began work anew. One group of four went to work tar papering the roof while others brought up the shingles and nails. The plumbers and one electrician looked at the sketches Jesse and his father had drawn and went to work making the necessary connections from the existing house to the addition. The woman who was acting as a foreman, moved inside the addition and began directing the placement of the interior framework that would be the two bedrooms and bath. Yet another team worked on the doors and window placement after which the clapboard siding was extended to cover the exterior of the addition.

By the end of the day, the Aarons' house had been transformed. The exterior was largely complete and all the studs, drywall and other interior material which would be needed in the coming days were stored in the newly extended basement. Jesse gave Leslie a tour of the new living quarters, now that the plywood floor was finished, and he stood for a long minute, imagining what having a private room would be like. It took some creativity, too, for there were no walls, and the tub and toilet for the new bathroom were stored just about where he imagined his bed would be.

Leslie watched her boyfriend from the empty bedroom door frame, knowing how much the privacy would mean to him, and happy his family was finally able to afford a few of the nicer comforts in life that had often made her feel so guilty about being a 'rich girl.' She also hoped that the country's deepening economic problems would not affect the Roanoke area and Mr. Aarons' job.

Following a quick dinner, Leslie ran home, retrieved her school bag, and returned to the Aarons' house to finish up her weekend assignments. Fortunately, neither had much to do and only needed an hour, which included time to review all their Spanish vocabulary. Amid the conjugated verbs and idioms peculiar to the language, the two took great pride in how well they had picked-up the tongue after only two months. It was the one subject they both had that they could work on together.

As eight o'clock approached, Jesse again walked Leslie home, holding her backpack to his left and her hand in his right. It was a slow, quiet walk down the dark drive, pot-marked with deep ruts from the two large flatbeds that had brought the building supplies. They would make running home at night hazardous. Both felt the chilly November 1st air, and both were thinking about the previous night and whether there would be a repeat.

When Jesse stopped at about the same place as the night before, Leslie again had her wish fulfilled as her friend turned and leaned down to kiss her. That Jesse seldom initiated their kissing had always been curious to Leslie, but she knew better than to push her best friend. He had been through enough confusion over the past six months and didn't need another thing to fret over.

His kisses were gentler, she realized, than hers had been twenty-four hours earlier, but it was also more satisfying as each could be felt more clearly. Jesse Aarons never ceased to amaze Leslie, and it was another reason she loved him: His sensitivity and perspective about so many things complimented their relationship. After a couple minutes of the gently, playful kisses, Jesse pulled back and took a deep breath. His face was flushed, as was Leslie's, and they both looked at each other, as best possible in the light of a half-moon. Both expressions were filled with wonder, affection, and curiosity. Both also knew that they had to tread forward carefully and not let themselves become carried away.

Interestingly, it was again Jesse who was the more careful and cautions of the two. Leslie, on the other hand, with her heart pounding in her chest, began to think that some of the suggestions her Aunt Joan had made about kissing might not be so outrageous after all. There was a hunger burning inside her that, like Jesse the night before, felt almost uncomfortably unfamiliar – as if it were both drawing her in and pushing her away from the person six inches from her face. At times, in the thirty seconds they stood watching each other, Leslie thought she would burst. Jesse was, in her mind, morphing into something other than a friend to her, he was becoming a delicious treat, and she wanted to devour him right there. This analogy, floating about in her brain, was curiously appealing, but she was distracted as she became aware of her hands, no longer around Jesse's neck: they had moved to his face. She had never really touched his face before and found the sensation interesting, and neither had Leslie thought of her hands as being at all sensitive to anything but pain; now it was different. Jesse was smiling slightly. He said something, but it didn't register, as if the sound was lost somewhere in a vacuum between his lips and her ears.

As Jesse watched Leslie, he saw in her face and eyes things he'd never seen, or noticed, before. She was the same old Les he'd known for years, but he knew she was changing – almost before his eyes. Moreover, he knew they were _both_ changing; two years ago, there was nothing they could have done together to incite the roaring monster inside him as it did now. He knew, logically, what was happening to them, though he could not quite recall the right terms – something was again interfering with his usually clear thinking.

But not too much.

"I gotta go, Les."

She didn't respond.

"I have to get a shower and work on the sketches for Mrs. Roller."

"Oh!" spouted Leslie, coming out of her reverie. "That's right… I'd forgotten." _Forgotten my foot! I was distracted._

"Thanks for helping this weekend," continued Jesse, but still not moving away. It was beginning to drive Leslie crazy.

"…Right…no problem. I, uh, guess I'll see you on the bus then…tomorrow…"

Jesse finally started to pull back, but impulsively Leslie clamped his face between her hands and drew him forward, kissing him one last time. When they separated, she sighed.

_It feels like it will never be enough!_

"'K, 'night, Les."

Jesse smiled and backed away, waved, and disappeared into the darkness.

On the way home, he remembered to wipe off his lips. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Leslie walked into her house feeling both satisfied and a bit empty, as if she had missed out on something. She wanted to talk, but to whom? Joan? Her mother?

Her parents were in the family room watching Jimmy walk circles around P.T.. At some point, the poor canine must have been trying to follow the toddler because now he looked rather nauseous and disoriented.

_Just like me, I bet!_

"Hi Mom, Dad."

"Hi Les," they chorused together. Jimmy called out something that sounded like _Wess_. "Did the Aarons get everything finished?"

"Pretty much all the outside stuff. The inside is still unfinished. Jess showed me where his new room will be." This brief statement seemed to take all the air out of Leslie and she took a deep breath.

"You ok, dear?" asked her mother, turning so she could see her daughter better.

"Yeah…can we talk, Mom?"

Judy Burke gave her husband a quick glance and stood, holding out her hand to her daughter.

"Inside or out?"

"It's getting cold out, let's go upstairs."

Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, Leslie and Judy retreated to the privacy of the mother's office, where even her father was not allowed entrance. Judy shut and locked the door as Leslie collapsed onto the loveseat and started hugging a pillow. Her body language spoke volumes to her mother.

"So, what's on your mind?"

Hesitantly, her creamy complexion turning a shade or two redder, Leslie began. "Mom, I don't understand some…feelings I'm having. I guess it's about sex, and that sort of stuff." When she saw her mother's expression twitch, she added to clarify, "Not like _having_ sex, _Mother_, just boy-girl stuff."

Relieved beyond words, Judy sat and patiently listened to her daughter, all the while knowing that if she herself at fourteen had done what Leslie was now doing, her own life would have been very different. It was the split in their personalities that she had been looking for since Leslie and Jesse became close. It was, Judy now understood, the proof that her daughter would not make the same mistakes she had. She closed her eyes and nodded.

When the conversation was over, both mother and daughter _understood_ their positions better, and both _felt_ immensely relieved, but for very different reasons. Judy, after Leslie left for bed, unconsciously put her head in her hands and thanked God.

It was the first time she had prayed in more than twenty years.

And she knew a talk with her sister was needed, and it would not be pretty.


	31. Part 4: The Unfriend

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 31 – The Un-Friend**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Jesse and his father quickly completed their plumbing and electrical work on the addition and passed the required inspections shortly thereafter. With that step complete, the rooms had the drywall installed; finishing took most of another week, but the final product made both Jesse's proud. Carpeting followed painting, and not three weeks after they had begun, the two rooms and bath were complete, aside from a number of minor items which Mary Aarons repeatedly pointed out to her husband and son until fixed. It was only then that Jesse and Ellie moved into their new rooms, Brenda took May and Jesse's old room, and May found herself in her older sisters' former room. It didn't bother her, she was happy just to have some privacy for the first time she could remember.

The Aarons family was settling into a more comfortable school year that Fall of 2009, than they had ever enjoyed before. Of course, Brian was too young for school, and Jesse had never told his parents about his personal bullying problems for fear of sounding wimpy, but Joyce Ann had enthusiastically started kindergarten, May, with the math tutoring she received from her brother and Leslie, was doing well, and Brenda appeared to have matured enough perform tolerably well (academically) in her senior year _and_ enjoy a relationship with a boy lasting more than two weeks. Starting her second year at Roanoke Community College, Ellie was carrying a full load and working full-time. She was usually exhausted by the end of the week, but her determination to earn enough money to go away to a _real school_, as she would call any university far from Lark Creek, drove her relentlessly forward.

Jesse Sr. and his wife still fretted over money, but it was no longer a crippling problem. The thriftiness they had had thrust upon them in years past now served the family well by allowing for the establishment of an emergency savings fund. There was nothing left for college tuitions or retirement, but the parents believed the most pressing needs were now safely accommodated.

The most serious issue everyone was facing, not only in the Aarons' home, or Lark Creek, but also throughout the country, was the faltering economic situation. The terrorist attack the previous year had, far worse than in 2001, created a cascading financial crisis as bad as anything the country had suffered since the seventies. Unemployment was shooting up, as was inflation, but wages held steady or declined, and no one wanted to talk about the ballooning trade deficit or the impending collapse of the Social Security system. Adding to these woes was the enormous expansion in military budgets to fight yet another war on terrorism. The new president, having run for election on a platform of bringing the troops home from Iraq, was now required to eat her words and send two hundred thousand more soldiers to the Middle East as war with Iran appeared ever more certain.

So far, the lives of two young teens, in love, and busied within their own small, rural world, experienced little of the developing domestic and international crises. Once, Jesse had heard his parents mention _something_ about _someone_ registering for the draft, but he had learned in civics that the draft had been abolished in the seventies, so he gave the comment no more thought. Moreover, any worried looks the parents might have shared were deemed to be related to financial issues by the children, who were well accustomed to these dilemmas.

Yet through all the turmoil and visions of a bleak future, Jesse and Mary Aarons worked closely together to stabilize their family, feed and clothe them, run May to soccer games and Jesse to cross country meets, keep house and live respectable lives in their community and church. It was no small accomplishment.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Tom Jacobs considered himself a normal, fourteen year-old boy in pretty much every way, and even more polite and respectful than most: Those who knew him would agree. Since the death of his mother earlier in the year, he had done more for his father and sister than could be reasonably expected of a young man these days. During the week, when his father was at work, he took responsibility for preparing dinners. He made grocery lists and kept the toothpaste and bathroom tissue stocked. He kept the yard green and clean, and dutifully mowed each weekend from March through October. He collected and emptied the trash, and faithfully put it out for pickup each Tuesday evening. He even assisted his sister with her laundry responsibilities by doing his own clothes; something he felt was more of a duty than a chore. The list went on and on, and his father truly appreciated him stepping up to fill in the gap left by the family's deceased matron.

All these chores and responsibilities were carried out with an alacrity that was both genuine and misleading, for Tom had unconsciously and unintentionally let his moral compass become driven by a barter system rather than his ability to distinguish right from wrong and make decisions based on that knowledge. In short, he had fallen into a pattern of believing that a week of good behavior and well-executed chores had earned him an hour of 'bad' behavior, thought the ratio often fluctuated. In his defense, one might mitigate his personal responsibility based on the trauma of loss associated with the passing of his mother. Others, less kind or more spiteful, might insist that he aggravated this responsibility by being consciously aware of every step he took on the road to potential ruin.

Tom's sister, Grace, accepted the burden of dealing with her brother, for she most often saw the faults in his behavior and recognized the patterns that explained his actions. But Grace, unwisely, chose to keep her concerns to herself rather than consult her father for fear of being labeled a tattle-tail. Fortunately, Tom's wayward mode of decision making was not physically harmful to himself or his friends, and often manifested itself by what most adolescents would consider showing-off or silly behavior – it had not advanced, yet, to doing anything really stupid or destructive.

The Jacobs household had always been a deeply religious one. Both parents had been raised Catholic and had dutifully brought up their children in the faith. Tom and Grace, unlike many children uprooted every two or three years, enjoyed a succession of parishes in their many deployments with vibrant youth programs that kept both involved and active in their church, wherever it may be. Lark Creek was the first location in eight years where they had come across a parish without a dedicated youth minister. This was not an issue while their mother was alive, she kept the two involved in other ways, but that had changed with her departure and the good moral influence the Jacobs children needed, particularly Tom, vanished.

Grace considered her brother's action at the Keane pool in August to be a sign of his faltering morals. Tom thought it was nothing more than a well-earned reward for all he'd done over the past two months. _Hardly a fair trade, but certainly deserved_, he rationalized. Then his little sister had to spoil it! Shamed back into tolerable behavior, at least by Grace's standards, Tom let her cool down before his subsequently adventures.

The next escapade was not wholly dissimilar to the first as it also involved four of the five Keane girls, though they never realized the roll they played. Tom's solitary Saturday afternoon walks did not draw his sister's or father's attention all through September; he had often gone out on his own over the years to have time to himself. But those previous stroll never involved 'borrowing' his late mother's opera glasses (an action that _did_ stir guilt) or the family digital camera, ducking into the thick bushes next to the Keane's property, and documenting the girls bathing _au natural _through a well-hidden hole in the fence. A few fine September days were all he needed to record, and become thoroughly familiar with, the bodies of the four females, not to mention parts of his own.

The end of the month, and the arrival of cooler fall weather, beget an end to the free exhibits, and Tom had to look elsewhere for amusement, at least for the next six or seven months. He wasn't particular about where he obtained his chuckles; his curiosity had been largely sated on the subject of the female anatomy, rather like the proverbial worm in the bottle of Tequila having enough to drink. The only regret he carried was that he was never able to include Jesse Aarons or Mikey Sellers in his voyeuristic antics: Two or three of them walking off together might have made his already mistrustful sister worryingly suspicious.

Thus limited by the blinders he had put on his own conscience, Tom could not see clearly into the future and what it might hold: That would manifest itself over the next few weeks and months.

- - - - - - - - - - -

November 16th was the date of the audition for the main roles in the school's spring production of _Once Upon A Mattress_, and everyone interested in trying out was required to learn the part of one character upon which they would be judged. Tom gave into Jesse Aarons' plea to join him in the Drama Club auditions (he had promised Leslie he would participate if she took Spanish with him, and it was now time to pay her back for holding up her end of their agreement.) Jesse had, grudgingly, agreed to try out for the role of the mostly mute King Sextimus, a role largely consisting of mime and silliness; Leslie, because of her fine voice, chose the role of Princess Winnifred; Grace only wanted to be in the chorus, so she did not need to audition, and Tom said he would go out for the role of the Court Jester.

Grace commented snidely to Leslie that her brother had that part hands down.

Unfortunately, by the fifteenth, Jesse was nearly prostrate with anxiety over the audition. Thanks to Leslie, he knew his line perfectly – there was only one – and was able to present it with a tolerably good dramatic flair, but only in her company; the idea of standing up in front of a packed auditorium, or even Mrs. Beal, the drama teacher, to dance and mime, left him whey-faced and nauseous. This was something Leslie had expected and she had spoken with her parents about ways to relax her friend. Judy and Bill provided some suggestions, but nothing seemed to work.

Much to his dismay, Jesse was the _last_ to audition that Monday afternoon, and the wait had made him so nervous he required several trips to the bathroom before he was called up. But with only one other person remaining before his turn, Grace had an idea.

"Jess, try this, it worked for me last year: When you get up on the stage, look into the auditorium and imagine everyone is wearing only their underwear. Every time I got nervous I thought of that and it calmed me down."

Tom and Leslie gave brief chuckles but told Jesse that he should try it. So he did. When his turn came a couple minutes later, he marched solemnly up the isle, spoke briefly to the drama teacher, and hopped up onto the stage to wait for the signal to begin. As he waited, his eyes looked out to where his friends were seated, though Tom had wandered off somewhere, and tried to do as Grace had suggested. Unfortunately, the thought of Leslie and Grace scantily clothed in front of him only made Jesse blush furiously and look down, an attitude he kept until he heard a voice.

"Mr. Aarons, are you alright?" It was Mrs. Beal, Jesse noted. She was queuing him to begin.

"Oh, sorry…I, um, got distracted."

Leslie and Grace sat quietly, both trying _not_ to look worried about the initial impression Jesse had just made.

"Very well. Please start when you _are_ ready."

With his stomach churning and intestines gurgling ominously, Jesse steeled his courage, looked out on the auditorium one last time…and began to laugh hysterically. The drama teacher looked at Jesse's application and saw he was auditioning for the role of the king. Confused, she waved Jesse off and asked what he was doing. Apologizing, Jesse made a lame excuse about being excited and returned to his spot on stage.

His second attempt at reciting his only line went fine, and he started to perform some of the mimes required by the role, but once again, he broke out in laughter.

Tired and aggravated, Mrs. Beal snapped at Jesse. "Mr. Aarons, if you want to try out for the position of Court Jester I suggest you do so, but you cannot play both. Please finish Sextimus's routines."

Jesse's second outburst of laughter had Leslie and Grace sharing confused looks.

"I hope the idea of us being in our underwear isn't causing Jess to act like this," Grace whispered to Leslie, who blushed, giggled, and nodded in agreement.

But just as Grace finished speaking, an odd noise caught her attention. She started to follow the sound. Looking behind and above, she was horrified to see her brother, on the balcony, prancing around wearing only his boxers. With a gasp, Grace hid her face and began to curse quietly – a first for her in Leslie's presence.

"What's wrong, Gracie?" asked her friend, not having seen the true cause of Jesse's stage outbursts. The seventh grader just shook her head, but Leslie had her question answered another way.

"_MISTER JACOBS! GET…DRESSED AND COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!_" bellowed Mrs. Beal. Having just witnessed Jesse's third unexplained fit of laughter, the woman had turned to see if something, or someone, was disrupting him.

Leslie finally caught a brief glimpse of Tom as he hustled back to the stairwell, presumably to get dressed, and began laughing too. Grace, however, found nothing amusing about it.

"Les, Tom's being a _jerk_. _Please_ don't _encourage_ him."

With her amusement partially deflated, Leslie apologized and tried to calm herself.

While they waited for Tom to appear, Jesse finished his audition and apologized for laughing. Mrs. Beal was not very sympathetic.

"That'll be enough. Why was Mr. Jacobs acting up? Did you have anything to do with it?"

Jesse passionately tried to explain why he thought Tom was acting that way, and as the guilty teen approached, the auditorium resonated with the sound of Grace crying out in pain. She had tried to kick Tom as he walked by, but only succeeded in smashing her big toe on the chair in front of her. With a sympathetic look, Jesse scurried back to sit with the girls until Mrs. Beal had finished with his friend. Unlike Grace, however, Jesse was not offended by what Tom had done, and aside from his inability to control his laughter, Jesse though Tom's method of calming him down worked brilliantly; he had recited the line, performed the dance, and successfully managed the mimes. Mrs. Beal seemed to agree, to some extent, as she let Tom off with only a warning. His punishment, Mrs. Beal told him, was that he didn't get the part, though he had proven he could play it superbly.

Making a quick exit from the hall, Tom dragged Jesse with him.

"As punishments go, I got off easy. Gracie sure was right about it helping you; when you weren't cracking up you did great. I wish I had a girl that would do that for me! No offense, Jess."

Jesse, not altogether comfortable with his friend's sense of humor, allowed him his amusement. This time.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jesse had promised Jackie Roller that he would have some preliminary sketches for her by the beginning of December; that deadline was quickly approaching, and between preparing for the audition and finishing the addition to the house, he had fallen far behind in his preparations. As a result, all of his spare time during the last two weeks of November was spent brainstorming and drawing.

The draft of Roller's first volume, which she had loaned to him in August, contained ten stories, all geared to younger children and containing a mixture of traditional fantasy, fairy tales, and folklore of England and Scotland. Jesse wanted to work up at least two sketches for each story, one for the title page and the second illustrating the climax of each tale, but he quickly realized that he could not possibly think of twenty illustration topics and draw them in two weeks. After cursing his own stupidity for procrastinating, he turned to his best source of help: Leslie Burke.

But Leslie was not available, he'd forgotten; she had three advanced exams approaching and was leaving early for the Thanksgiving holiday. She did offer, however, to suggest others who might be able to assist him: Grace Jacobs, Lisa Silliard, or Barb Keane. Jesse thanked her curtly and went back to working through the ideas himself, wondering all the while why she had suggested three girls, and those three in particular.

_She knows I'm uncomfortable with Grace because of her one-time infatuation with me…doesn't she? Lisa__ might have worked, but she and Mikey Sellers have been glued to each other ever since the dance and he might think I'm making a move on her. Barb? Forget it! She seems smart and creative, but I don't need the distractions her presence induces._

With this reasoning, Jesse returned to the draft and his sketchpad.

The Friday after Thanksgiving, November 27th, arrived and Jesse was little closer to being complete than he was a week and a half earlier. Admitting defeat, he called Grace, but only the answering machine picked up. Next he called Lisa's cell; Mikey answered, and in a panic he hung-up, forgetting that cells had caller ID. He called back and tried to explain to Mikey (who answered again) what he needed, but both of them were heading out to a movie and had to leave before hearing the whole story.

Jesse grumbled at himself. It was down to Barb Keane or no one. He dialed her number and listened to the phone ring…once…twice…

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, can I talk to Barb…please?"

"Hi, Jess, it's me."

"Oh, um, sorry to bother you on the holidays, but, um…"

"No prob, Jess, Leslie told me you might call about an art project you're working on, or something like that." He voice was friendly; he might have been calling Leslie, had he not known better.

"Um, yeah, that's right. I was wondering if you might be able to help me with some ideas."

"Sure. D'you want to get together, or is it an over-the-phone thing?"

Jesse hadn't thought of that, but it didn't matter, they would have to meet…but where?

"How 'bout the library, say…one this afternoon?"

"Ok."

"It may take a while; I have six sketches I need help with…"

Jesse was beginning to panic a bit and hoped he would be turned down.

"Ok. See you there at one. Cheers."

Barb's mild English accent and jargon still threw him a little, it was most obvious when she was home and around her sisters, Leslie had told him. Heaving a sigh of inevitability, Jesse went off to collect what he would need for the meeting.

The Lark Creek Public Library was nearly empty when Jesse entered a few minutes before one that afternoon. He looked around and saw that Barb had not yet arrived, so he staked out a table and started browsing the shelves absentmindedly. When he went around a corner, still not paying attention, he walked right into Tom Jacobs, knocked him into a display of American history books, which caused them to tumble to the ground. Both laughed and started to put the books back on the display dais until an aggravated looking librarian shooed them away.

"What are you doing here? I tried calling this morning?" asked Jesse, as they beat a hasty retreat from the scene of disaster.

"Oh? We've been here all day. I have that stupid science fair project to work on and Gracie's babysitting me."

The irony of Tom's comment was not lost on Jesse, who chuckled and told his friend why he was trying to contact them.

"She's back there somewhere," Tom thumbed towards the silent reading area. "But watch out, she's in a crappy mood."

Jesse waved off the warning and went to find Grace, who was sitting right where her brother had pointed, and was in a _worse_ humor than he had warned.

"Wha'd'you want, Jess?" she snapped, examining Jesse suspiciously over the top of the National Geographic she was reading.

"Oh, um…nothing. Just saying hi….Hi."

"Hi," was all Grace said in response before completely hiding her face behind the magazine.

Shrugging at the inscrutable workings of females, Jesse walked back to where he had set his things to look again for Barb. As he came around the last set of bookshelves, however, he was horrified to see her sitting at his table, paging through the draft of Roller's stories. Forgetting he was in a library, Jesse shouted over the information desk. "Don't look at that…_STOP!_" Angry librarians and annoyed patrons shushed him, but he had gotten Barb's attention; she closed the binder and put it down with a confused look. Jesse trotted up to explain.

"Hi…sorry about that, I can't let anyone see it." Without much detail, he explained further about the legal mumbo-jumbo; it seemed to satisfy the girl, partly.

"It's going to be a bit hard for me to help you if I can't read about it," she reasoned. Then she saw something she had not noticed before. "_JESS!_ Is this really by…by… _Roller? Jackie Roller? THE Jackie Roller?_" She whispered the last part, eyes wide with amazement.

He nodded, flushing a little.

"Wow! How did you rate?"

"Huh?"

"How did you get this? Half the kids in Lark Creek would kill for a copy of this. What I read was great…for a kid's bedtime story, I mean..."

Jesse spent the next quarter hour telling Barb about his meetings with the famous author, mentioning the connection through Bill Burke. This only caused her to look at him with more awe.

"Jeez, Jess! I knew the Burkes were well off, but I didn't know Leslie's father was _THAT_ Bill Burke. I love his last book; just finished it a few days ago!" Barb was struggling to keep her voice down.

"Did you like the illustrations?" asked Jesse shrewdly.

"Yeah! Why?"

Jesse motioned for Barb to sit for a moment while he went to a display holding a number of copied of Bill's book. He brought one back, opened the cover, and pointed to the illustration credits. When he saw the expression on Barb's face, he began to see why Jackie and Bill had come to loathe their popularity so much.

"_Jeez, Jess!_ You too? _Unbelievable!_ I should have told Leslie that I _was_ interested in you."

Barb had intended the line to come across as a joke, but seeing Jesse's face scrunched up in anger she immediately apologized. He went on to tell her more about his past work and how it led to the offer from Roller for the work before them. In addition, he omitted any references to the problems he'd had prior to summer and how their resolution had almost crippled his ability to draw. He finished with another warning. "Please don't go telling people about me at school, or Les's father, either. She's managed to keep it low-key and wants it that way."

Nodding, and still in a little awe, Barb eventually found her normal voice and they began to talk about the six illustrations Jesse wanted to complete in the next few days. To his delight, Jesse found the red-haired girl very creative and full of ideas. He still felt he could not let her read the stories because of his promise to Roller, but summarized them tolerably well, while showing the fourteen illustrations he'd drawn up to that point.

By three o'clock, Jesse and Barb had worked up a number of ideas for the final six illustrations and the outlook for completing them was much brighter. As they walked around, stretching their legs, Barb headed off to the bathroom and Jesse ran into Tom again. He had a devious smirk on his face that should have been a warning, but Jesse was too excited about the ideas Barb had given him to notice. They began chatting quietly, too quietly, and ended up in one of the small, unoccupied conference rooms in the back of the library. It was here that Jesse finally saw the eager look in his friend's eyes.

"What are you all wound up about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why are you working so _closely_ with Barbara Keane?" he retorted, arching his eyebrows.

"I have a deadline and Leslie thought she could help me…and she did. And why are you acting so odd? Finish your project?"

Tom ignored the last question.

"Wanna see something…interesting?"

"What? A frog in your pocket?" replied Jesse lightly.

"No, not hardly."

Looking over his shoulder, Tom saw no one around and took a digital camera out of his pocket. Turning it on, he queued up a picture and handed it to Jesse. "Push that button to see the next one. And keep your voice down."

Suspecting Tom was showing him a picture of himself mooning the camera; Jesse advanced the picture and saw only a peach-colored blur. He advanced it again and saw a familiar sight: the Keane's back yard with a view of the area around the now covered pool.

"Tom, what _is_…?"

"Shhh. Just keep looking."

Now, even more wary, Jesse pressed the button again, and again, and again. With each picture his eyes grew wider and his heart beat faster. There were twenty pictures in all, but it was the last two, of the girl helping him, that shook him the most.

"_Lord, Tom!_ Where did you _get_ these?"

"_I know! Great, aren't they?_ Gives me a woody just looking at 'em."

Jesse blinked. "That's…those are the…" Unable to speak, Jesse just pointed to the main reading area of the library where he knew Barb was waiting for him. At least, he _hoped_ she was there and not searching for him.

"Where's the delete button this thing?" Jesse said hoarsely, fumbling with what now seemed like a hundred buttons on the back of a very complicated piece of machinery.

"Hey! Don't delete them," cried Tom, taking the camera out of Jesse's shaking hands. "These are priceless."

Jesse sat down and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Tom, you have to get rid of those, _NOW!_ If they find out you took those pictures, Barb will _KILL_ you! Her father will kill you!"

"Why? How are they going to find out? Are _you_ going to tell them?"

There was a nasty hint of a challenge in Tom's voice that both hurt and angered Jesse. Unsure how to proceed, he simply threw up his hands in defeat and walked away to finish what he'd come to do. Unfortunately, as he approached the table where he and Barb had been working, his mind began to play tricks on him: No longer was Barb wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, he saw her as in one of Tom's pictures. Jesse stopped and shook his head, knowing his mind was deceiving his eyes. Barb saw this and looked at him questioningly.

"What's wrong? You been running?"

"Um…no, why?" It was all Jesse could get out as he slunk into his chair, afraid to look at the girl.

"Your face is red. Sure you're ok?"

Jesse didn't answer and the question was repeated.

"Yeah, sorry. I just…saw…um, something that…surprised me." _Good, Aarons, real smooth._ "I'll be right back."

Jumping up, Jesse ran to the bathroom and threw water on his face. When he looked in the mirror he almost didn't recognize himself; his face and neck was flushed completely red, as if he'd just run a mile. "_I'm going to kill Tom Jacobs,_" he muttered aloud. A flushing toilet a second later reminded him he was in a public facility and he sprinted back out of the bathroom.

Barb offered Jesse a ride home when they finished brainstorming a short while later, but he was too wound up and said he was planning to walk the two miles, adding he had not been able to run much recently. Accepting the white lie without question, Barb waved and jumped into the family van driven, Jesse saw, by Jen, her oldest sister, apparently home from William and Mary for the Holiday.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The route home took an hour, and Jesse needed every minute of it to think through what had happened with Tom in the library. Once again, he found one part of himself debating with another about what had transpired, and the morality of his actions. He knew it was his conscience battling his human nature for a decision about how to deal with the event.

_W__as it wrong?_

_What was wrong?_

_Why was it wrong?_

One thing was certain; Jesse was thoroughly disgusted with himself for continuing to look at the pictures, even after he realized what and who they were. This he initially attributed to surprise and shock, but upon further reflection realized it was just plain curiosity that kept him looking. He didn't feel bad or sinful about his curiosity, per se, only his inability to control it.

There was a part of him, he realized, probably a good-sized part of him that enjoyed what he saw. He reflected further on this, and as he did, he realized that Tom's evaluation of the older girls' attractiveness the previous spring was flawed. Neither Barb nor Maggie was _butt-ugly_, as Tom had crudely stated many months before. He stopped for a moment and rebuilt the images he saw within his mind, and they seemed to leap out at him.

_A __benefit of my eidetic memory? _He realized bitterly.

As Jesse reviewed the images, he found himself falling into the same trap he had at the library, but it wasn't until he found himself dwelling on images of Maddie, the twelve year old, that he built up enough guilt, self-loathing, and pure disgust to shake himself out of the fantasy.

He started walking again, and as he went forward, Jesse found that his guilt was being rapidly replaced with a less expected emotion: anger. It was a bitter, hateful rage, and it was aimed at two people: Tom and himself. But what affected Jesse most of all was what had _not_ happened, but _could_ have happened. What would he have done if Tom had handed him the camera and they were pictures of Ellie, Brenda, or May….or Grace….or Leslie? With each step he took, the bile built inside his stomach and chest until he couldn't stand it any longer. He lurched away from the sidewalk and vomited behind a tree.

A young boy walking his dog saw him, made a face, and ran off the other way thinking Jesse intoxicated.

Shaking his head in revulsion, Jesse and continued on, spitting the horrid taste from his mouth, silently wishing he'd never met Tom Jacobs. He wasn't sure how it would ultimately happen, but he knew their friendship had ended. He felt poisoned, corrupted, but most of all, guilty. It went on and on and on like this until Jesse realized he was running – sprinting – the last quarter mile home. Down his drive and up the front steps, he collided with a locked front door and fiddled with the key until gaining entry when his knocks went unanswered. Up to his room, he threw his papers and Jackie's draft on his bed and went to take a shower, feeling dirty in body and soul.

When finished, and feeling a little calmer, Jesse dressed and lay on his bed thinking about life. He remembered a recent conversation with Leslie and how they had agreed their lives were changing. A sudden pang of loneliness filled him; he hadn't seen or talked to his best friend in five days, and she wasn't going to be home for two more. These final thoughts swirled around in his head until he closed his eyes to rest them for a few minutes and fell soundly asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The reason Jesse had found the front door of his house locked was contained in a note on the kitchen table, a note that he failed to see in his haste to retreat to his room. He might have been happier reading it. The note said that the Burkes had returned home early and had invited the Aarons over for pizza that evening. Brenda and Ellie were both out on dates, so May, Joyce Ann, Brian, and their parents were already visiting with their favorite neighbors. At the Burke's house, May told her parents she'd seen Jesse running home; Jesse Sr. and Mary believed he would see the note and be over shortly. When he did not appear after an hour, May and Leslie were sent to fetch him.

The girls found Jesse asleep in his room and his sister immediately woke him up. Groggy from the late nap, Jesse nearly jumped when he saw Leslie standing in the doorway smiling.

"I thought you were gone…" he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"I was, we came back early."

"Jess, we're having pizza at Leslie's house, Mom says to come right over," May explained, unsuccessfully trying to pull her brother up by his hand.

"Ok, ok, I'm up," he protested half-heartedly. Leslie laughed and her voice drew Jesse's attention to her. "Everything ok? Why are you back so early?"

Her face darkened. "Mom and Joan had a big fight; they were yelling and screaming all morning."

"No way!"

Leslie nodded gravely. "After a couple hours at it, Mom found Dad and told him to pack up because we were going home."

Jesse noticed that while Leslie was freely giving this information, she looked a bit uneasy, and as his vision cleared, he saw she was blushing slightly.

"I can't imagine your mother fighting with Joan. They've always gotten along well…haven't they?"

May, forgotten in the exchange, stood aside, listening to the strange story.

"Until today. Mom cried half the way home…but _don't_ tell her I said that!"

"And she wanted to have us over for dinner? Is she up to it?"

Leslie shrugged. "Dad arranged it and she didn't protest. I think she wanted to talk to your mother. They've been off in Mom's office until a few minutes ago. Anyway, pizza's hardly difficult to prepare."

"Domino's or Pizza Hut?"

"Pizza Hut, of course."

"Thick or thin crust?"

Leslie laughed and held out her hand to help Jesse up. "Don't worry, there's a thin crust sausage and pepperoni just for you."

"Ah hah!" Jesse shouted, startling May. "Tell you parents I love them."

"Why? _I _ordered it for you," said Leslie smiling.

Jesse opened his mouth to say something, but noticed May looking intently at him. Instead, he grabbed his jacket off the bed and ran out with Leslie in tow and his sister trailing behind looking a little disappointed. On the way over, Jesse told Leslie about how Barb Keane had helped him that afternoon. He omitted anything about Tom and his camera.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Judy Burke had been crying, off and on, for almost six hours when Mary Aarons, encouraged by Bill Burke, rapped on her office door and found her friend looking just about as miserable as she had ever seen her. Securing the door, Mary sat on the love seat, put her arm around Judy, and waited for an explanation. It wasn't long in coming.

Judy had confronted her sister on the advice she'd given Leslie to deepen her relationship with Jesse. As Mary had known none of this, she, too, began to feel her ire rise as the story progressed. When complete, Judy was again crying and Mary was shaking with anger.

"I simply can't believe Joan would tell something like that to Leslie," Mary finally said, her voice thick with dread. "Thank God your daughter had the wits to tell you about it."

"I have, believe me, I have," murmured Judy.

Mary nearly laughed, believing Judy to be kidding about thanking God. "What's this, a breakthrough?" she asked jokingly.

But Judy's answer was completely serious: "Maybe, I don't know. Mary, I am so sorry about my sister. If anything had happened between those two I don't know what I would have done." Judy turned and hugged her friend for a long time, feeling better for having shared her burden.

After a while, Mary took Judy's shoulders and put a little distance between them so they could talk further.

"Have you talked with Leslie about your sister's comments?"

"Yes," replied Judy, drying her eyes. "Actually, it was Leslie who brought it up; that's how I found out about Joan. Apparently she and Jess were getting into some serious necking…well, more than mild necking, at least," Judy corrected herself, trying to be as honest as possible so Mary could base her actions on the facts and not her own emotional backlash. "I think she recognized the signs of arousal and wanted to talk about it."

"That _does_ make sense," Mary thought aloud. "And Jack mentioned the kissing to me. I think it was the day we started work on the addition."

"'_Jack_'? You mean…Jesse?"

"No, I got tired of them _both_ answering when I called for _one_ of them. I used to call him Jack all the time; it faded away a few years ago for some reason or another. He made a face when I used it, but I told him that it…" Mary cleared her throat and colored, "…that it turned me on; he never said another word about it after that."

Judy laughed heartily for the first time that day.

"Men!" exclaimed both women together.

"Anyway, back to our kids," sighed Mary. "I've made it clear to Jess that kissing's the limit, and so has Jack. I know, I know," Mary cut off Judy's comment before it came out of her mouth. "At some point they're going to start exploring and all that, and to be honest, I'm not sure what to do at that point. Jess has always been religious and knows what the church teaches is right and wrong…. What? Why are you shaking your head?"

"Mary, Bill and I were the same way at that age: It didn't help us _one bit_. When we got…you know, when we got going, it was only a couple days between second base and scoring." Blushing, Judy hid her face, but Mary gently pulled her hands back.

"I hear you, Jude. Jack and I wouldn't be considered particularly good role models, either, for waiting until you're married. It seems like such a big chasm between using your conscience and using a condom, doesn't it? But it isn't."

Judy groaned dramatically. "I can't even imagine talking to Les about birth control."

"You mean you haven't told her…?"

"Well…no, not in so many words…no."

"Jude, have the talk, if for no other reason than to easy your own conscience. Jack said he went through the nitty-gritty details with Jess a few months ago…"

"How did that go?"

"Jack said Jess nearly threw up, which might be the best we can hope for." Mary stood and walked around the office to work a cramp out of her leg. When Judy started to get up, Mary stopped her. "I think we need to work together on this, Jude. If I tell Jess one thing and you tell Les another, it won't help them."

"I see your point, but I'm not sure of a solution. I suppose we could do one of those contract things the kids do to stay away from drugs," she suggested.

Mary smiled skeptically. "Yeah, right. I can see Jack and I handing one to Jess now: _Hear son, read this and sign at the bottom. I, Jesse Oliver Aarons, solemnly swear I will not…feel up my girlfriend…until we are both…_" That was as far as Mary got before completely breaking down in laughter. Judy again hid her face, but joined in the mirth. The seriousness of the subject, however, quickly sobered the two women. Mary sat again not knowing what to say. After a seemingly endless minute, Judy spoke.

"Trust."

"'Trust'? As in, let them work it out on their own?"

"Honestly, Mary, I don't see any other way," admitted Judy, sighing deeply. "Les _did_ come to me with her concerns, and Jess was open with Jesse, uh, Jack. Recently I've been more concerned about my daughter initiating something, but she's proved she had a level head." Then, decisively, Judy stood and restated her opinion. Mary listened, and it was settled. For now.

"Ok, I'll go along. Now let's get you something to eat, Jude, you've been eating your fingernails the past half hour."

"Old habit, sorry. They don't even taste good."

Laughing again, the mothers linked arms and started out of the room, but Mary paused, looking hopefully at her friend.

"Do you think we'll be able to talk again, some day, about something other than our kids messing around?"

"Yes," said Judy quietly, almost in a whisper. "Yes I do. But please don't ask me when."

The women proceeded to the dining room where their two families were just setting out the boxes of pizza. Leslie looked worryingly at her mother when she appeared, but the smile she saw in return told her everything was all right.

The rest of the day went pleasantly for both families. Following dinner, the kids played _Trivial Pursuit_ and the adults talked about adult stuff while watching Jimmy and Brian tire themselves out. As the families prepared to leave, the phone rang. Judy answered and told Leslie it was Grace Jacobs for her; Leslie ran off to talk with her friend after giving Jesse a quick kiss. It was the first time she had ever done so in front of both sets of parents, and the adults looked more embarrassed than the kids did.

Walking home, Jesse considered the fact that he would have to talk to Leslie about what happened between himself and Tom that day. For all he knew, Grace was telling her something that minute, though he was certain Tom would not have mentioned anything to his sister about the brief but unfriendly words exchanged. However, all that would have to wait. He needed to finish his sketches and send them to Scotland in the next three days; that would leave little time for the long discussions that would likely follow.

Arriving home, Jesse stopped at the family computer to jot out a thank you note to Barb Keane before heading up to his room. It took a great deal of concentration for him to set aside the images still floating in his head from earlier that day, so little progress was made on any of the six final illustrations. Finally, fed up with his distractions, Jesse gave up and read until he fell asleep.


	32. Part 4: The Thief

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 32 – The Thief**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_NOTE__: The last section of this chapter contains a dialog about some 'rules' of the Catholic Church. You can probably skip it if you are not interested, though the final quarter of it relates directly to the feud between Tom Jacobs and Jesse Aarons, and sheds further light on Jesse's behavior towards him. Also, please note that my explanations of the Catholic Church's doctrines are not 'official,' though I do believe them to be accurate. No flames please!_

Sunday morning, Leslie walked with Jessie into his R.E. class and sensed him tense up as they passed Tom Jacobs. Neither said a word to the other. Throughout the morning, Jesse was unusually quiet and refused to make eye contact with either her or Tom: Something was obviously wrong. Leslie's conversation Friday evening with Grace had given no hint about a falling out between the two friends, but neither had Grace told Leslie everything she knew. Later, in church, Jesse made a point to seat himself out of reach of the Jacobs family so he wouldn't feel obligated to shake Tom's hand at the sign of peace. This maneuver was not lost on Leslie, but she waited until they were home before bringing it up. After lunch, she asked Jesse to go for a walk with her. They donned their winter coats and hats and went outside. It wasn't long before Leslie spoke.

"Jess, what's up with you and Tom? You didn't even say hello to him today."

Jesse had debated how much detail he should tell Leslie, and ultimately decided to omit the exact nature of the offense, unless it was unavoidable. When he finished his greatly abridged version of the story, Leslie pointed out the obvious.

"You're not telling me something, Jess. You and Tom have been friends for too long; it has to be more than that to ruin your friendship."

"There is, but that's all I can say right now," he insisted glumly. Talking about it had made him feel no better than before, but then again, he told himself, he had not said much.

Proceeding slowly down the path that led to Mr. Boone's cabin, both friends remained silent for half an hour. Jesse was the first to strike up another conversation, asking Leslie about her mother's scrap with her sister. Now it was Leslie's turn to be circumspect, and she too concealed the exact reason for the falling out. The truth was, Leslie was embarrassed to admit she had considered suggestions on how to kiss her boyfriend. She might speak with something of that nature with Grace, but not Jesse!

A couple miles further, where the river split into two branches around a large hill, they decided to turn back. The sky was gray and overcast, and a few lonesome flakes of snow were winding their way through the leafless canopy of tree branches above them. Leslie put her ungloved right hand into Jesse's left pocket, entwining her small, cold fingers with his for warmth. Both loved snow and slowed their pace a bit to see if the storm would strengthen before reaching home.

It did.

A few hundred yards down the path from her house, approaching the spot where the old rope swing once hung, Leslie stopped. She took out her mother's cell phone and called home, saying they were just five minutes away and would be home shortly. Closing the Razr, she started walking again, but stopped shortly at the spot she had nearly drowned years before. Curious, Jesse followed as his girlfriend approached the embankment and looked across to the other side.

"Ever wonder what life would have been like if I had died?"

"Yeah, but not for a long time. When I was having my nightmares it was almost a daily reminder."

"I mean, did you consciously think about it?"

"Nope… I've always been glad you're alive. Why?"

Leslie smiled at the response, but it faded quickly. "Just thinking about stuff, I guess." She put her hand around Jesse's waist, pulling him closer. He mirrored the movement. There was something on her mind, he knew, but he had to wait for her to say it. It took a couple minutes, before she spoke again.

"Jesse, when we moved here…well, I've told you how bad it was in Arlington, right? I don't think I've ever thanked you for becoming my friend. I think I _would_ have died if it wasn't for you. I mean, not by falling in the river and drowning… Oh, I don't know!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. "Fifth grade was so utterly horrible the few weeks I was at my old school. All my best friends from fourth grade abandoned me, as if I had never existed. Mom said it was because of the strange way people act when they're going through adolescence. Maybe she was right." Leslie made to sit in the snow, but thought better of it and continued her story. "I had three close friends: Josie Tile, Megan Pritchard, and Anne Tyson. I knew Anne was moving between fourth and fifth grade, so that wasn't a surprise, but on the first day of fifth grade, Josie and Megan wouldn't even talk to me. Mom had to pick me up from school I was so upset, and that only made things worse. The next day _everyone_ tried to make me cry so my mother would come and get me again."

"Lord, that's _terrible_, Les! But…why wouldn't they talk to you?"

"You remember how I dressed in fifth grade, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess. But your _best friends_…?"

"You've never lived in a city, have you?" It was more of a statement than a question; Leslie knew full well that he had not. "Our part of Arlington was mostly upper middle-class, filled with the snobby children of generals and admirals and politicians…and diplomats. If you didn't conform, you were ignored. I was ignored, and I was having those migraines and nightmares, not like yours, but bad enough. Anyway, Mom and Dad had been talking about moving over that summer, so they pulled me out of school after a few weeks and here we are."

Neither said anything for a couple minutes. Jesse was again waiting, while the ever-thickening snowfall piled itself higher and higher on their hats; he knew Leslie still had something to say. When she spoke again, Jesse thought her voice sounded ashamed.

"The day after we moved here was a Sunday. I walked down this way, probably not this far because I don't remember seeing the rope, and watched the water. It was high and fast, like the day I…like that day. I told myself that if I didn't make a friend I would jump into the creek and drown myself."

Leslie had admitted her pain and thoughts so calmly, and with such conviction, Jesse shivered in alarm.

"_Les…!_"

"Pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

"_No_…I mean, yeah…I mean… Do you think you really would have done that? That's _murder_!"

Leslie turned and gave Jesse a confused look. "'Murder'? What do you mean?"

"Suicide is self-murder. We learned it in R.E. earlier this year."

Snorting out a bitter laugh, Leslie admitted, "I never thought of it that way. But no, I probably wouldn't have done it. I _was_ terribly unhappy, but I met you my first day at school."

Now Jesse barked out bitter laugh of his own, recalling his complete disinterest in the girl next to him. "I wasn't exactly friendly to you, was I?"

"No, but I knew we would get along," said Leslie, turning and smiling again.

For the first time in ten minutes, Jesse touched Leslie, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to himself. She was shivering, or crying quietly, he wasn't sure. They stood there in silence in the snow until their feet became numb. Neither had worn boots.

"I guess we should go," Leslie finally said, sighing and sniffling. "Mom's going to freak out as it is."

She turned and gave Jesse a long, warm embrace before starting off on the last few hundred yards to her house. The snow, now falling heavily, was rapidly covering the ground; there was almost an inch on the patio behind Leslie's house where she had washed the skunk musk off herself years before. She smiled at the memory.

"Come in?" invited Leslie.

"Sure, but I have to go home and get my sketches for Mrs. Roller…to show your father. I'll be back soon."

Jesse returned with his portfolio for Mr. Burke to look at as quickly as he could run home and back. Leslie and her mother were sitting in the living room watching Jimmy play with some old wooden blocks that had been in the family for years; he went to sit on the floor with the toddler after giving the drawings to Bill to look over.

"Jess, how do you like having a little brother?" asked Mrs. Burke, even though she knew he adored the new sibling. Jesse knew that she knew, too, and just smiled.

Leslie moved down to the floor and began playing knock-down with her brother, a common game with young children that was little more than stacking up some blocks so the child could knock them down. But regardless of the simplicity of the game, Jimmy loved it and played with Jesse and Leslie until he started to nod-off. Seeing this, Judy picked her son up and put him in the playpen for a nap.

Outside the snow was piling up and conversation turned to the possibility of having the following day off from school, but Jesse repeatedly discouraged such speculation.

"They almost never close schools here," he informed them. The statement was accurate, too. In her three years in Lark Creek, Leslie had missed only one day of school due to weather, and that was from an ice storm, not snow. Arlington County had been far more lenient with their standards and could even boast giving the students a day off for a weak hurricane that never hit. Pouting spectacularly, Leslie stuck her tongue out, proclaiming there was always hope and that her boyfriend was a party-pooper. Judy watched the friendly banter with amusement.

Bill returned to the living room after about an hour and called for Jesse to join him in his office. From the moment Jesse sat down, he knew Bill was disappointed with his work. Leslie's father, always business-like with these things, gave Jesse his opinion without any sugar coating.

"Jess, the subjects themselves are excellent, _but_…well, the drawings are only fair. I don't think most will be good enough for Jackie to use. There are a few here," he flipped through the small pile, "these four, and _maybe_ this one, that are quite good, but to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't use the others myself. I know that's harsh, but business-wise I can't see her accepting them." He shrugged. "On the other hand, it _IS_ Jackie Roller we're talking about, and if she's anything, she's unpredictable."

While discouraging, the words were not particularly surprising to Jesse. He knew that they were better than what he'd produced over the summer; they were nowhere near as good as what he had once created. He nodded, thanked Mr. Burke for his assessment, and asked for his opinion on what to do.

"Jess, from what I know about Jackie Roller, she'll want to see them all, good and…not so good. These have to be picked up by FedEx no later than tomorrow morning to get to her by Wednesday, and that may be pushing it with this weather. I'd suggest you send everything, maybe even try touching up some of them, if you think it worthwhile. Sorry, Jess, that's the way I see it. Of course, I could be completely wrong, but…"

_N__o_, Jesse didn't think so, either. He thanked Bill for his appraisal and returned to the living room to find Leslie lounging on the sofa and waiting for his return.

"How'd it go?" she asked tentatively, suspecting not well by the look on Jesse's face. He told her.

"Yeah, when my Dad gets businesslike he can be rough. Sorry." She sat up and patted the cushion next to her. Jesse sat. "Are you going to send them all in?"

"I think so. I guess I'll go home and try to touch some of them up." The disappointment in his voice was heartbreaking for Leslie to hear.

"Jess, you _will_ get better. The things you drew just last year were fantastic; it'll come back to you, I _know_ it will."

Laughing mirthlessly, Jesse thanked Leslie and departed for home. Trudging back to his house through the snow, he had a few hours before bed to try and avoid complete disaster, as he saw it. The walk was thoroughly depressing, nonetheless; he would much rather have bundled up and gone sledding with Leslie.

The following morning, Leslie got her desired (and unexpected) snow day, and the FedEx pickup _was_ able to make it to Jesse's house, in spite of the half-foot of snow. The drawings were sent on their way to Scotland, but Jesse felt miserable and much like he had missed the opportunity of a lifetime. He spent an hour sulking, wondering if he had devoted more time to the project whether it would have make much difference. In the end, he became distracted enough by May asking him homework questions to forget his own problems. The brother and sister ended up spending two hours, ostensibly going over math, which Jesse was now quite good at, but mostly they talked about school and family.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas were filled with the usual holiday activities, but no goings-on could distract Jesse from the abominable position he felt he had been put in by Tom Jacobs. His and Leslie's circle of friends immediately noticed the friction between the (apparently) _former_ friends, and this led to awkward situations at lunch. Neither boy wanted to appear weak in front of their friends, so both refused to change tables. In addition, as often happens with kids, their friends started taking sides, which Jesse found ludicrous since only he and Tom knew what had happened. By the second week of December, Lisa, Carol, and Mikey were sitting at Tom's end of the table, with Leslie, Grace, and Barb at Jesse's end. Jesse found it highly amusing, too, that Grace and Barb had apparently buried the hatchet and were on the same side in this – or any - issue. The friendships between the two groups were strained at best, and once Leslie had to forcibly remove Jesse from the cafeteria when he threatened to start a food fight with his new archrival.

All these very public displays of friction fed directly into Ricky Manning and Gary Fulcher's continuing plans to infuriate and hurt Jesse through Leslie. In the past, Tom and Mikey had kept their eyes open for Leslie's protection, but now Tom pretty much ignored her, and Mikey felt pressured to follow Tom's lead. This only added fuel to the fire and further strained the deteriorating friendships. Fulcher and Manning often visited Leslie at lunch, standing behind Tom, while making disparaging remarks about her. Only the fact that the bullies had different lunch periods prevented more numerous and lengthy teasing, and though Leslie had become used to the public harassment, she still flinched when someone surprised her. And no one, other than her tormentors, seemed to have the slightest clue why she was continually called Heather, though Jesse was certain it was for no _good_ reason. As fall turned into winter, Jesse's patience with the bullies was wearing thin, but he refused to retaliate with Leslie around.

Apart from classes and bullying, the fall cross-country season ended the weekend following Thanksgiving, and as in the previous year, all team members were invited to a private awards ceremony one evening. Jesse, who had turned down the offer to be the boy's team captain, again won the MVP award. Leslie, captain and MVP for the girl's team, presented the Most Improved award to Barb Keane, who had cut more than three minutes off her season starting time for the 2.8-mile course. May, who saw Jesse's trophy that evening and whose soccer season had ended two weeks earlier, proudly promised her brother that she would also run cross-country in seventh grade. Jesse kindly told her that he looked forward to seeing her compete in two years and the fifth-grader happily skipped off to bed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The Saturday before Christmas, Jesse received a call from Leslie asking him to come over for a few minutes. He readily excused himself from the holiday decorations of the house and ran to spend some quiet time with his girlfriend, but his hopes were dashed when he entered the Burke house and found Grace Jacobs and Barb Keane present, also, and both looking slightly guilty. Warily, Jesse shed his winter coat and shoes and joined them following Leslie down into the basement. There was a fiercely burning fire in the hearth and it warmed the usually cold ground floor, but Jesse still felt chilled. Playing the part of the host, Leslie directed everyone to where she wanted them seated and began the conversation.

"Jess, we need to get this feud you're having with Tom resolved. Gracie and Barb agree…right?"

The other two participants, clearly having been brought in against their better judgment, showed forced smiles and nodded.

"_Les…_" started Jesse to protest.

"No, hang on, Jess. You need to hear me…uh, hear _us_ out."

Jesse felt ganged-up on, but sat back and listened, arms folded, trying not to look at Barb for fear of a flashback to the start of all the problems.

"So…Jess…since you can't or won't tell us what this is all about, don't you think it's time to forgive whatever it was he did…especially after all Tom's been through this year?"

Sitting next to Grace, Jesse felt her body tense up at Leslie's allusion to her mother's death. It was obviously not appreciated, but she remained silent.

"Look you three: I _do_ forgive him, but I don't want to associate with a person who would…" Jesse caught himself, having nearly spilling the beans. He paused.

"Can't you at least not hate him so much?" added Barb. "Even Grace and I don't hate each other any more."

Leslie smiled proudly at having repaired at least one friendship, but Jesse had his doubts about the depth of _that_ achievement. Yet the statement was _partially_ true: the two girls were no longer openly hostile. In a moment of weakness, Jesse very nearly gave in, but ultimately held back, knowing there would have been quite a scene if he had told them what Tom had done.

_It might almost be worth it__ to see their reactions! _He thought perversely, but he shook his head resolutely. "I don't _hate_ him, Barb," he said, more gently than he felt. Then to Grace: "You know how he's changed this fall. You should understand."

Something registered in Grace with those words, and she seemed to gain an insight that neither Leslie nor Barb could, but she remained silent.

The four talked quietly for a few more minutes, but it was clear that Jesse was not going to say anything, and the only concession they could get from him was to not antagonize Tom at lunch. Leslie finally gave up and thanked Jesse coolly for coming over, an obvious dismissal that left Jesse feeling ill-used. As he stood to leave, however, Grace said she wanted to get a picture of them all, before she, Tom, and their father left town for the holidays. As she pulled a camera out of her purse, Jesse froze, hoping, _praying_, that Grace had the same sort of digital camera as the brother, and had not borrowed it from him.

Jesse, Leslie, and Barb sat together on the couch while Grace set the timer on the camera and framed the picture. When she pressed the shutter, the camera began its ten-second countdown and she leapt across the other three, gracelessly landing in their laps, as the first picture snapped. Later review of that first shot would show Jesse with a pained expression on his face: Grace's hip landed hard on his lap. Jumping up, she reset the timer, but this time she sat on the arm of the couch with one arm over Leslie's shoulder, smiling while waiting for the flash.

"Just a couple more," stated Grace, preparing the camera, but something was wrong, the device was beeping at her. "It says the memory card's full. Just a second, I'll erase some old pictures. Tom probably took a bunch of Carol at the dance; he fancies her now."

"That's Tom's camera?" stammered Jesse, mouth instantly dry and feeling suddenly queasy. He was sitting between Barb and Leslie.

"No, it's the family's, but Tom is the only person who uses it regularly. Here we go…wow! Some of these pictures are from last spring."

By this point, Jesse's heart was threatening to stop. If Grace saw any of Tom's more recent pictures there was liable to be an ugly scene. He got up and loosened his collar: the fire seemed to be unusually warm. Frozen in dread, Jesse stood, waiting for Grace to find the pictures he could only pray Tom had deleted. After half a minute, Grace said she was ready, and gave no indication she had come across the alarming photos. Finally, after five minutes of posing for more pictures, they were done. Jesse quickly excused himself, feeling immensely relieved that nothing embarrassing had arisen, and jogged home to finish decorating.

If there was any preparation for Christmas that Jesse loved, it was decorating the tree. Decked out with a beautiful mixture of modern lights and traditional, hand-made ornaments, it put Jesse in the mood for the season more than anything else did. And it had been one of the very few times each year when the entire family was together and not fighting about something. May and Joyce Ann added long strings of popcorn and construction paper loop-chains that nearly obscured the slightly gnarled white pine. When complete, everyone proclaimed it a magnificent success and feasted on Christmas cutouts, hot chocolate, and the leftover popcorn. Jesse stood back, however, pensive, wondering if it may have been better for Grace to _have_ discovered the pictures and get everything out into the open.

Worn out more from the short gathering at Leslie's house than anything else he'd done that day, Jesse went to bed early that night. He lay silently under a small pile of blankets, warm in spite of the cracked bedroom window, for he loved sleeping in cold weather, something he could seldom do when he shared a room with his sister. It was supposed to be bitterly cold that night, but when the temperature was more moderate, Jesse planned to close his bedroom door and open the two windows wide so his room would become chilled. He imagined it was something like camping outdoors.

At the Burke house, the chasm between Judy and her sister had closed little in the weeks since Thanksgiving, forcing Bill and his wife to rethink their holiday plans. Leslie lobbied heavily for remaining in Lark Creek, for obvious reasons, and eventually won her parents over. Secretly, Jack and Mary Aarons were also delighted upon hearing the news. Beyond having their friends around for the holidays, they had seen their son slowly but surely sink into depression. Both knew it had to do with his friend, Tom Jacobs, but Jesse had not shared with them, or anyone else, what was bothering him. Jack tried to bring it up a couple times while both worked finishing the new bathroom's floor tiles, but Jesse stubbornly refused to talk about it. However, the parents had high hopes that the combination of the school holiday and the unexpected presence of his best friend would cheer him up.

- - - - - - - - - - -

On Sunday, December 20, the day after Leslie had called her friends together to confront Jesse, they walked into the final R.E. class of 2009 (Jesse deftly avoiding Tom; Leslie giving him an apologetic look, which he ignored) to find a substitute teacher. Bob Jarvis introduced himself as a long-time friend of the pastor, Fr. Keene, and a last-minute sub for their vacationing instructor. When the class was assembled, Bob talked for a few minutes about Christmas and then made an offer usually reserved to the once-a-year appearance of the pastor.

"I'd like everyone to take out a piece of paper and write down any one question you have about our faith. I'll collect them in a couple minutes and then try to answer as many as possible in the next hour. Don't sign your name, and try to make the question concise. Ones like 'Who is God?' will be ignored. Try to think of very specific situations or problems you might have faced and how your faith would address them."

Pens and pencils scratched, paper was folded, and in a couple minutes the bowl placed on the desk was filled with the inquiries.

"Ok, let's see what we have..." Mr. Jarvis began, but one of the boys interrupted and asked him suspiciously why he thought he was qualified to answer the questions.

"Fair enough, I should have mentioned this before. Your pastor and I were ordained together almost twenty years ago. I chose to give up the priesthood for personal reasons and I now work with inner-city kids in Norfolk." With that item answered, he chose the first question dramatically, as if it were a lottery drawing. "_Can gothic people go to heaven?_"

There was a smattering of laughter in the room; most knew who had submitted that question. A girl dressed in black and with numerous piercings sunk lower in her seat.

"I would say, unless there is something inherently evil about that lifestyle, a person would be judged by God just as you and I will be."

"Next question…we'll skip that one…here's a good one. Can only Catholics go to heaven? This is a good question, and one you will face throughout your life. The answer is a little complicated, but I'll give it a try. Our Church teaches," he picked up a small, thick, white-covered paperback, turned to a page, and read: "_Those who, through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, but who nevertheless seek God with a sincere heart, and, moved by grace, try in their actions to do his will as they know it through the dictates of their conscience - those too may achieve eternal salvation."_ Mr. Jarvis looked up and saw a mixture of understanding and confused faces. "Did that make sense?"

"But isn't that the same as saying you have to be Catholic?" Leslie asked, startling Jesse, who was thinking more about the question he had submitted.

"No, not really. The difference is that those who live holy and good lives, and are _unaware_ of the Catholic Church and Jesus as the path to salvation, have just as much opportunity for salvation as a Catholic… Or aren't you Catholic?"

Leslie blushed. "No, sir. I'm agnostic, at least right now. Does that mean I'll go to Hell?"

"Can't say, can I? That's between you and God." Bob held up the book he had read from, it was titled, _The Catechism of the Catholic Church_. "Ultimately, who spends eternity in heaven and who does not, is between themselves and God. But personally, I try to go by these rules."

Leslie slumped back in her seat, thinking, and realized her question had not been answered, but before she could ask another question, someone else did.

"But…there's like, five thousand rules in that thing!" another girl said from the other side of the room. "If I break one and then die do I go to Hell?"

"This book is much more than merely rules. The CCC gives you information, history, and reasoning behind the rules, so you can understand your faith better: It's not a list of things you must follow blindly. Try reading it, you might find it more interesting than you think. Ok, another question…_What happens to a real bad person who murders and steals all his life but goes to confession and then gets killed? Do they go to heaven?_"

A number of the students sounded up that they wanted that one explained. The substitute held up his hand.

"Hmmm…I'm not completely comfortable with categorizing all criminals as _male_, but I'll ignore that for now." Mr. Jarvis smiled and sat pensively on the edge of the desk, contemplating his answer. "Going to Confession is only part of what a person needs for forgiveness and salvation. Confession requires conversion, conversion to a new life and a new way of thinking. If someone commits a mortal sin, goes to Confession, and then goes out and does the same sin again, there was obviously no conversion, was there? However, that wasn't exactly the question asked. I'm not the final judge, so it would be up to God, who we know has perfect knowledge of everything, to judge whether that person had truly been converted - or not."

Leslie looked over to Jesse as the next question was being selected. He saw in her face, as he had for a number of weeks, both interest and confusion.

"Ah, one of my favorite questions! _Why is a sin that doesn't bother anyone a sin?_ This, my friends, is _absolutely fundamental to understanding the concept of sin_." Mr. Jarvis was slapping the palm of one hand with the edge of the other. "The answer to this question is so simple yet so overlooked: It is _impossible_ to commit a sin that hurts no one but yourself."

Hearing this, half the class exploded with follow-up questions until one voice stood out. "That doesn't make sense! How is skipping Mass on Sunday hurting anyone but me?"

"Because, as a baptized Christian and Catholic, you are a member of the Church. Anything that affects you, affects all of us."

"You mean that if Billy," another boy piped in, thumbing in the direction of the boy who asked the previous question, "skips Mass today it hurts me?"

"Yes. Not necessarily in some obvious or grandiose way, but it does. Think of it like this: You and two hundred other people are stranded on an island with little water, so that everyone gets only one cup a day. If I were to sneak in and drink a few more cups because I was thirsty, who would notice? Maybe no one, right? But every other person on that island will, ultimately, suffer for my selfishness."

A low chorus of dissatisfied grumbling met this explanation. Jarvis grimaced, having thought it was an adequate analogy, and walked around the desk, thinking.

"Didn't like that one? Try this: A young girl, fourteen, fifteen years old perhaps, gets pregnant and has an abortion. What she didn't know when she killed that child was that God had plans for him or her. Perhaps that person was supposed to find a cure for cancer, or become a person of some other great importance to the entire world. Or, what if that person became nothing special to society? Would that make the magnitude of the girl's sin less? You _must_ understand this, all of you, Catholic or not. When you sin, _by definition_, you _cannot_ hurt only yourself, _you hurt everyone_."

The room sat quietly for a few seconds. The passion and force of their substitute's words had finally broken through.

"But…but, Mr. Jarvis! Then everyone will be going to Hell! No one can be perfect."

"Of course not, only one perfect person ever lived. But God is very aware that humans are not perfect, that's why He gave you Jesus and the sacraments and the Church as guides to Himself. God knows we will stray, but if we use the tools given us, we will always return to the right path. Ok, let's move on, we have time for one more. _Why is someone like a peeping-tom a sinner?_"

Again, snickers were heard throughout the room. Jesse was pleased to hear his question asked, but at the same time horrified when he realized the wording he had unintentionally used. He turned his head very slightly to try and see Leslie. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

_Did she figure it out?_

"The answer here is in two parts, one based on the ninth commandment, the other on the seventh. I am not going to go into the part covered by the ninth because it deals with some sexuality issues and our responsibility towards living chaste and holy lives; that's a can of worms with kids your age. But I'll bet that few people think of peeping-toms as breaking the seventh commandment. Who knows what the seventh commandment is?"

"Thou shall not steal," answered Jesse automatically.

"Good…Jess. And how does that relate to the sin a peeping-tom commits?" No one spoke up at first. Jesse knew the answer but felt it better if it came from someone else. He was surprised when he heard the person who replied.

"Is it because the person, uh, peeping, is taking something from the person they're looking at…without their permission?"

Smiling, Mr. Jarvis looked at Leslie, nodding, and saying solemnly, "Give a gold star to the girl who isn't even Catholic. Perfectly stated! Our bodies are the holy temples in which God resides. Any violation of that vessel, by others, or ourselves is sinful. In this case, as…" Jarvis looked at Leslie's nametag, "…Leslie correctly stated, we are stealing something precious from that person. These types of sins, including pornography, are especially dangerous and damaging to your soul because pictures leave imprints in your mind that are difficult to remove. Ah, I see that time's up! Thanks for a great morning; I love question-and-answer. Have a wonderful and safe Christmas."

The class rose, almost as one, with most promptly leaving. Jesse, Leslie, and Tom remained seated. Jesse ventured a look over to his ex-friend and saw him looking back for a second before rising and walking out. He did not understand the expression on Tom's face. Then he turned to Leslie and was shocked to see her on the verge of tears.

"You asked that last question, didn't you?" she said quietly, her head bowed slightly.

Jesse nodded.

"And that's what Tom did, isn't it?"

Another nod.

Leslie choked back a sob and a tear ran down her cheek, but she wiped it away angrily; while trying unsuccessfully to collect herself she hid her face. Jesse glanced to the front of the room and was relieved to see that Mr. Jarvis was talking to one of his classmate's parents.

"Was it…was it…me?" whispered Leslie.

Seeing the embarrassment and fear in his best friend's eyes, Jesse felt like a brick had just landed in his stomach. He knew exactly what his friend was asking: _Was it me that Tom was peeping on?_

"No, really, it wasn't you, Les, I swear. It doesn't matter anyway, I think he got the message."

"The Keanes?" she persisted.

"Les, does it matter?"

"I guess not," she admitted, obviously relieved. "Is that why you said, 'I'm going to kill Tom Jacobs'?"

Jesse blinked…_How did she…?_

"How do you know I said that?"

"Grace. She heard you."

Totally confused now, Jesse could only produce a somewhat stupid look of puzzlement.

Leslie explained further. "Grace was in the girl's room with you," she said, a smile beginning to twitch on the side of her mouth.

"I…I was in the…_Lord!_ What a dope!" Shaking his head, Jesse then buried it in his folded arms, his face darkening. He had a picture flash in his head of himself in the bathroom that Saturday – there were no urinals... A moment later he heard a voice.

"Ms. Leslie B., are you thinking about becoming a Catholic?"

Leslie, too, startled by the appearance of Mr. Jarvis, found herself momentarily unable to speak, something that seldom happened.

"Oh, uh, y-yes, sir. I guess…m-maybe," she stuttered, trying to give an answer she still wasn't quite certain about.

"Wonderful. I wish you well. It was nice meeting you both." Shaking Jesse's and Leslie's hand, the substitute walked out of the room; they heard him greet Fr. Kelly down the hallway a few seconds later. When Leslie looked back towards Jesse, she saw something on her desk that had not been present only seconds earlier.

"He must have left this for me, Jess," Leslie said, holding up a copy of the thick Catechism book. "Maybe I should look at it."

"If you decide to become Catholic, Les," Jesse enthused, "I'll be your sponsor." Leslie smiled, but didn't make any commitment.


	33. Part 4: The Ensnarement

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 33 – The Ensnarement**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

A light snowfall on December 24th promised a white Christmas for the residents of Lark Creek and its environs. It was, as Jack Aarons had often said, _the perfect snow: enough to look beautiful, but not so much as to make the roads dangerous_.

Leslie awoke that Christmas morning thinking of Jesse, and Jesse and herself. It brought a warmth to her quite different from the covering of blankets under which she lay. Turning to look out the window at the snow clinging to the trees and windowsill, Leslie sighed contentedly. The peacefulness was contagious and she sank back down and emptied her mind of all her cares. The spring play, the school bullies, her occasional scraps with her parents: all vanished and she sighed deeply, completely content.

In the kitchen below, she could hear her mother talking to Jimmy, _probably feeding him_, she guessed. From down the hall, her father's snoring was just audible. She smiled, wondering if Jesse snored too. P.T. was sleeping at the foot of her bed, exactly where he'd slept since they found him at Mr. Boone's cabin. A momentary pang of guilt stung her as she recalled that neither she nor Jesse had brought the old man something for Christmas.

_The first dry weekend, Jess and I will hike over_

Leslie dozed off for another hour, until her mother, who was looking particularly happy and awake, came in and announced breakfast was ready. It was quite a feat for someone who was not a morning person.

"Good morning! Merry Christmas! Ready for breakfast?"

"Sure…smells good."

Jumping up, Leslie donned her robe and slippers and followed her mother down the stairs and into the dining room. P.T. trotted behind them, squeezed out the doggie door, and reappeared shortly, ready for his own breakfast. As Leslie sat, her father came in, freshly showered, holding Jimmy who immediately started wriggling to see his sister.

"Hey squirt! Want to sit with me?" she asked, unnecessarily by the way her brother tried to twist his way to her. The boy slipped from his father's arms into hers, then sat on her lap looking for food.

Judy brought in the Christmas breakfast and all was ready. The meal was quiet; Leslie was always the most talkative but she had little to say that morning. Her mind was still on the boy next door. Following the meal, the family headed into the living room and began exchanging gifts. Leslie could tell her mother was a bit down because she wasn't with her sister, but as the exchange progressed, she cheered up.

The largest _gifts_ that year for Leslie were a new laptop; her current one was an ancient (by computer standards) hand-me-down whose hard drive liked to fail at inopportune times, and her own cell phone. Since the previous summer she had been talking about dabbling in writing fan fiction and having a more reliable way to store her homework. Now she would have the tools.

But the largest _surprise_ Leslie received came after the gift exchange was complete; her mother said she would be going to the Christmas Mass with her and the Aarons. The announcement caught Leslie completely off-guard and her mother misread her surprise as disappointment. But the fourteen year old quickly reassured her mother, saying she was very happy and knew the Aarons would be, also. And she was correct.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Earlier that morning, about the same time Leslie was thinking about her best friend, Jesse was looking back a few days to the end of the last R.E. class. He could still see the look of shock and horror on Leslie's face when she thought she had been one of the subjects of Tom's camera. He tried to wipe his mind clean, and wondered if he would have gone postal had one of the pictures been of Leslie.

_Though she shows an awful lot of skin in that new bathing suit…_

_Wrong, Aarons! Get your mind out of the gutter._

Jesse sighed, resignedly. He was torn and confused by his own feelings and impulses. On the one hand, he knew that what Tom had done was sinful and socially reprehensible – and probably illegal – on the other hand, Jesse found himself not quite ready to let go of all the images he had seen in the Jacobs' camera – he even wondered what Leslie might look like…

_She is __pretty_, he reasoned, _and I do wonder what really is underneath…_

"_Stop!_" he finally said to himself, aloud. Jumping up, he grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the shower.

Jesse suspected something was afoot when Leslie called a while later to tell him that her mother would be driving to church, and would he like to go with her that morning. An hour later, Mrs. Burke pulled away from the Aarons house with the two kids and headed to church as Mary Aarons watched on in astonishment and delight. It was, for her, the best Christmas gift she could have hoped for. However, Mary's delight was Judy's nightmare.

From the moment they entered the church, Jesse noticed that Leslie's mother appeared uncomfortable. She had said on the way over that it had been nearly twenty years since she had voluntarily gone to any church service. This astonished Jesse, and he asked if she and Mr. Burke hadn't gone to Leslie's baptism. But as he finished his question, he realized that they had never announced the baptism of Jimmy, and Mrs. Burke confirmed that neither child had received the sacrament. Jesse glanced at Leslie worriedly, but she only shrugged.

At the start of the service, Judy fidgeted constantly and at times appeared ready to bolt for the door. Mary Aarons, however, had intentionally sat next to her, taking her hand and whispering words of encouragement to ease her friend's anxiety. It worked, and by the end of the Mass, Judy was calm and even joined in the closing song. Mary Aarons knew it would take a while for her friend to face all her issues, but she looked much calmer after Mass than before.

The two families met for brunch at the Burke's house following the Christmas Day Mass, and it was more crowded than usual. In addition to this being Brian's first Christmas, Ellie and Brenda had brought their boyfriends along. Both were respectable looking, though they seemed ill-at-ease wearing dressy clothes. Ellie's friend, Toby, a lanky boy who looked sunburned even in the dead of winter, Jesse recalled from the crowd of helpers when they built the addition. He, it was painfully obvious, had probably never been as dressed-up as he was that day, and had a look begging to remove his tie, which he constantly adjusted with one finger, but his affection for the eldest Aarons daughter was obvious, and Ellie spent much of the visit blushing.

Jesse and Leslie exchanged their gifts with the families, but over the past couple years both had also slipped something into the other's hand when they first saw the other Christmas day. It was never anything large, but always personal, usually a short note or a silly picture someone had taken of them. When the meal was over and the remaining gifts exchanged, the two quietly slipped out to the kitchen for a couple minutes in private. Leslie, after the other surprises of the day, was feeling particularly cheerful, and upon reading the short note Jesse gave her, she pulled him into a long, loving embrace, and reveled in the feelings that filled her as Jesse held her tightly in return. However, both knew from past experience that someone was bound to walk into the kitchen, and just as Jesse looked down to kiss Leslie, his father appeared, looking for a refill of his coffee.

"No, no, go on, just pretend I'm not here," said Jack Aarons casually, and with an uncharacteristic twinkle in his normally severe looking eyes. Jesse did just that, but kept the kiss brief, little more than a quick touching of the lips. When they were alone again, Leslie pulled Jesse's head down and whispered into his ear.

"I love you, Jess. Thanks for being my friend."

Smiling crookedly, he hugged Leslie again, enthusiastically, feeling all his other gifts that day were nothing compared with this last one.

Over the months and years since Leslie had first said those special words to him, and Jesse felt comfortable enough to say them back, neither had overused the phrase, and that made it all the more special. Both now knew, in their heart and mind, that they were far more than just friends. It had been coming on so gradually that neither could point to a specific time when they knew their relationship had changed; but over the past year, it had become physically and emotionally undeniable, and both felt a jolt of some sort of deep primal electricity shoot through them when they embraced or kissed. Like a narcotic, it gave them a natural high, and was always threatening to become addictive. At that moment, even in the kitchen with its lack of privacy and impersonal setting, both adolescents were reveling in the soothing, electrifying, and sometimes confusing rush of chemicals throughout their body.

Later that night, as Jesse lay in bed, he thought back to the brief time he and Leslie shared in her kitchen, and other times, too, when they had more privacy and a bit more freedom of action. Often they had danced around the topic of being alone together, since his last birthday, and though honest with each other and their feelings, neither had been able to express their thoughts or concerns adequately. Adding to these unanswered cogitations, Jesse had to deal with the frustration caused by the dichotomy of his budding physical desires vis-à-vis his boundary of proper behavior. Even though he was more experienced in interpersonal relationships than almost all other boys his age, this brought him neither aid nor comfort. Adding to this was a growing desire within him to _do more_ with Leslie, (though he still wasn't sure what _doing more_ entailed). The guidelines given to both he and Leslie by their parents were not always as clear-cut as Judy Burke and Jack Aarons desired, and this added yet another level of confusion and ambiguity to the general puzzlement about their relationship – a relationship that was beginning to recognize specific differences between physical proximity and emotional closeness.

With respect to recognizing the changes taking place in each other, Jesse had much to evaluate. Over the past summer, particularly at the beach, he had come to fully realize that Leslie was no longer his slender, athletic playmate. She was now an attractive young woman and he now noticed parts of her that hadn't attracted much attention before, some as if they were blinking neon-lit signs saying, _Look here, see how I've changed_. Some had become larger, some more rounded, others were thinner, but together they all formed the body of the person he recognized as Leslie Burke: _His Leslie Burke_.

When held, her hand seemed to disappear into his, her face, leaner and more expressive, seemed to draw his gaze to her eyes. And there were more and more of those heavenly, but uncomfortably awkward, adolescent moments when he knew he was staring at his girlfriend, and she would notice where his eyes were focused. The blush and smile she returned to him had an electrifying effect, one that even his beloved and comforting faith could not always distract him from, especially when he seemed to need it most. Like when his own body betrayed its unfathomable ability to respond unpredictably to Leslie's touch.

But between the two young lovers, Jesse was hardly alone in this journey from adolescence to adulthood. Just as he had noticed the physical changes in his friend, so had Leslie in him.

Like most boys his age, Jesse was rapidly developing in stature (_five-eleven now!_) his voice was deepening and his physical strength growing. Leslie was also pleased to note that he seemed to be handling these physical changes with little of the common awkwardness that ran rampant in school (other than him needing the occasional reminder to take a shower). She found herself daydreaming in school, or dinner, or church, or in the car – in short, everywhere, about the quiet, dark-haired boy who had saved her life, in more ways than one. He was firmly impressed upon her mind, and thoughts of everything or anyone else would sometimes vanish for minutes - or hours - at a time. These brief flights from reality did not interfere with her schoolwork, as they might have with other less disciplined or mature adolescents, and Leslie made little attempt to curb them for they held glimpses of a future she was unconsciously hoping for.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The Aarons house was silent and still as the last two hours of Christmas day approached. The only sound was the shower down the hall and the clatter made by the occasional patch of icy snow sliding off the roof. Outside, there was almost total darkness, but flurries were swirling in the barely freezing night air past Jesse's window, illuminated by the dim, yellowish back porch light. He could smell the pine and snow, so familiar this time of the year and made easier by his father burning semi-aged pine logs in the wood stove. The peaceful atmosphere was just what was needed to entice sleep…

The phone rang.

Half a minute later Jesse's door opened and his father handed him the phone; he didn't look happy about being awakened. Neither was Jesse happy about having his quiet time disturbed.

"Yeah, hello?" he managed to croak out.

"A Merry Christmas to you, too," answered an unrecognizable female voice.

Jesse sat up and blinked his eyes in confusion. There was something odd about the voice, too, aside from him not knowing who it was… _An accent?_

"_Mrs. Roller?_"

"Yes, Jess. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Um, no, I was just going to bed." Now wide-awake, Jesse slung his feet to the floor and waited, not knowing what to say.

A short bark of laughter came across the overseas line before the author began to speak again. "Jess, I am sorry, I can never keep the time zones straight. I thought it was eight in the morning your time." Another laugh.

Still not quite believing what was happening, Jesse cleared his throat and continued. "Yeah, we're five hours behind, not ahead…it must be three in the morning there. Is everything ok?"

"Yes, we are all fine; I keep odd hours is all. I want to talk to you about the drawings you sent me. Do you have some time now, or would you rather…"

"_No!_" Jesse interrupted, anxious to just get the rejection out of the way; it had been looming over him for six weeks. "Now's fine… Um, I guess you're calling to tell me you can't use them, right."

"You are the pessimist, aren't you?"

"They weren't that good, Mrs. Roller, we both know it," admitted Jesse honestly.

"No, they were not your best. Have you decided to start taking lessons again?"

"I…I need to save my money for college. I don't think I should use it for lessons."

"I see. Jess, I have a proposal for you. I _do_ want to use two of your illustrations." She described them to Jesse and he recognized them as his two best. "The business manager at my publisher will contact you about the contract, or…"

_Or? Or what?_

"…I could arrange to pay for any drawing lessons you'd like to take over the next year."

"Huh? But…how…"

"Oh, don't worry about the mechanics, Jess. If you're interested, find the best in your area and email me the information about the studio. Have a pen?"

Jesse jumped up and got pencil and paper from his desk. "Ok, ready."

Roller gave him her email address, and stern directions not to share it with anyone. Jesse promised.

"Um, thanks, Mrs. Roller. I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing: It's better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you ignorant than open it and remove all doubt." Jesse wasn't sure if he liked the way the joke came across, but held his tongue. "Let me know what you find, Jess, and good luck." Before he could reply, the connection was severed.

Sitting on his bed, Jesse's head swam. He wondered what his parents, particularly his father, would say.

_They'll p__robably ask a million questions…_

As he was about to lay back into bed, there was a gentle rap on his bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

Ellie, obviously just having exited the shower, pushed the door open. Her hair was a mess as she continued drying it, and she was wrapped up in a large bath towel, but her face appeared inquisitive.

"Everything ok, Jess?"

"Yeah…why?" he replied suspiciously.

"You don't get many late night calls from England." Ellie held out one of the extensions with the caller ID displaying UNTD KNGDM and the country code 44. "I had it in the bathroom with me…don't worry, I didn't listen in."

Jesse said nothing, but his sister continued to stand in the doorway, a small puddle of water pooling by her left foot.

"Was it Roller?" Ellie finally said, but without any annoyance that her brother was not volunteering the information.

Jesse nodded.

"Well?" she snapped a little impatiently, though it sounded more like curiosity than irritation. "What did she say? Did she like your pictures?"

Surprised and distracted by his sister's highly unusual interest in him, it took Jesse a few seconds to form a response. Meanwhile, Ellie continued to scrutinize him until he told her what had happened.

"That sucks, Jess, sorry you didn't get any money."

"I think the lessons will be better, El, and she told me to find the best teacher." With this answer, Jesse hoped his sister would leave, but she didn't. He continued awkwardly. "So…um, how's Tony?"

"It's _Toby_, Jess, not _Tony_. He's fine…in fact, he's in love with me, or so he says."

This information caught Jesse wholly by surprise. He was quite certain this was the first time Ellie had _ever_ said _anything_ even remotely personal to him. It left him a bit shell-shocked and grasping for an appropriate response.

"Oh, wow, that's great…I guess…um, ok…"

Ellie laughed. "Yes… It's strange, you know," she said wistfully, leaning against the doorframe. "I've been so jealous of you having Leslie for a close friend." Another long pause followed. "I'm happy for you. It feels good." Shivering in the damp towel, Ellie smiled a bit hesitantly and disappeared.

Still dazed by the visit, Jesse waited to see if his sister would return. When he was satisfied he would finally be left alone, he jumped up, wiped up the puddle of water on the floor with a dirty t-shirt, and jumped back in bed thinking about how unusual the day had been.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The New Year began with Jesse Aarons making a resolution to improve his drawing skills so he would never again miss an opportunity like the one Jackie Roller had presented him. During the week between Christmas and New Year, he had looked up, examined, called, and finally chosen a man in Baxley who was a modestly famous local artist and whose style Jesse was familiar with. At first, Fred Greely showed little interest in taking on a student. He had retired from teaching at fifty and opened up a small, successful studio/gallery in Roanoke around the turn of the century. When Jesse called him a few days before the new year, he had flat-out refused to teach, but as the two talked, Greely saw and heard something in Jesse's voice that caused him to reconsider his refusal. When Jesse mentioned his gift of an eidetic memory, Greely was further intrigued, and even more so when Jesse mentioned his payment arrangements. The next day, Roller's business manager contacted him and a contract was submitted and signed via fax.

Jack Aarons was not completely comfortable with the entire arrangement, due to his weighing the value of Jesse's work versus the expensive lessons. He had a nagging suspicion that there was charity involved, even after Mrs. Roller called him personally to assure him it was nothing of the sort. Bill Burke also spoke with him, over a couple shots of the Christmas gift Jack had secretly given him, and smoothed his ruffled feathers. In the back of his mind, however, Bill wasn't so certain Jackie Roller was being _completely_ above board with her offer.

Leslie was delighted by Jesse's news and enthusiastically urged him to practice. In fact, she was so excited by her friend's good fortune that she started to push him a little too hard and Jesse began to feel nettled. He lost his temper on New Year's Eve when she asked him to draw her, and left the Burke's party without a word to anyone, and without a coat. It may have been only a few hundred yards to his house, but the stiff northern wind chilled him and made his eyes and nose run annoyingly. He sat at home for a while, cooling off – figuratively speaking – and then returned to find his friend sitting on her front porch, wearing his coat, fretting about her behavior. She immediately apologized. Holding hands, the two returned to the warmth of the party, and even managed not to stir up questions.

After two weeks of school, Jesse was in a far better humor than in the waning days of the previous fall. He had come to accept that his friendship with Tom was over; for the first time in his life he was beginning to feel comfortable around other girls, thanks to Leslie and her acceptance of Grace and Barb into their inner circle of acquaintances; his first two lessons with Mr. Greely went off well; and for the first time in eight years he was doing very well academically, earning honors on his second quarter report card. In fact, he was top in most of his classes, except pre-algebra, and there he was ranked fifth in the class. In Spanish, he and Leslie had soared to top marks, due largely to their teamwork in studying. His only regret, he told his girlfriend, was that they didn't share more classes together. Leslie immediately pointed out to Jesse that that was the reason he was first in most of his subjects. It took a few seconds for the playful tease to register with Jesse, but when it did he retaliated by pinning Leslie to the wall next to kiss-and-ride and tickling her mercilessly until Mrs. Burke had to honk her horn to get their attention. When he started to let up, Leslie snagged his coat.

"Want a ride home?"

"Well, duh, that's why I'm here."

"Then you gotta kiss me," Leslie said, smirking.

Jesse looked around self-consciously, and did as was told. Red-faced from more than the cold, the two kids tried to continue playing in the car, but Leslie's mother stopped them so as to not wake Jimmy. They settled for holding hands and making silly faces at each other.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In late January, at the fourth lesson, something of significance occurred. While Jesse stood drawing, and the teacher looked over his earlier sketches, marveling at the quality and maturity of the style, he was struck by the detail of Jesse's works. It was a large part of the difficulties the boy was now experiencing, Greely realized, and he immediately called out for Jesse to stop.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all, I just want to try something," the instructor said.

Greely brought a box and held out his hand, telling Jesse to give him all his pencils. When he had obliged, the box was handed over.

"Start again, Jesse."

Confused, Jesse opened the box and found it filled with chunks of charcoal and some well-used dark objects that looked like sidewalk chalk. "What's this?"

"What does it look like?" snapped Greely impatiently. "It's charcoal. I want you to redraw that last picture with it." Then he turned and left the studio.

Jesse looked at his new tools with a mixture of apprehension and annoyance. He had never used charcoal for anything other than heating a grill. _Now I'm supposed to draw with these? And all in black!_ But when he looked at the contents of the box more closely, he saw that there was some color, of a sort: the chalk-like pieces were of varying shaded of black ranging from the darkest midnight to a faint gray. He started over.

When Greely reentered the studio, he went straight to Jesse's drawing and proclaimed it "fine work," and the pupil agreed. When he asked why, the answer seemed so obvious.

"Jesse, I saw in your older drawings a detail seldom found in those types of art. But detail takes time to perfect, and you've either lost the ability or have not developed it. Or should I say, _redeveloped_ it? Charcoal is much more forgiving, and earns its beauty from subject and shading, which you are very good at." Mr. Greely clasped Jesse's shoulder and told him of the new plans for the lessons. When finished, Jesse felt better than he had since the previous summer.

"And, Jess, if you keep up like this, you'll be progressing far better than I could have ever hoped."

As he was about to leave, Greely handed him the box of charcoals and told him to keep them at home, assuring Jesse that his sponsor would get the bill.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Throughout the first two months of the new year, Leslie persisted in her efforts to understand what she was learning in Jesse's R.E. class. As the weeks went by, however, her frustration mounted to the point where she seriously considered quitting. Jesse could tell his friend was discouraged, even to the point of urging her to stop attending. She thanked him, but refused, and said she wasn't a quitter. Neither did her mother help when asked about an item of Canon Law or interpretation of the Catechism. What Leslie did not know was that her mother was intentionally not giving her opinion, because either it was not formed or she did not want to influence her daughter by her own prejudices.

Seeing her son's frustration and Leslie's confusion, Mary Aarons finally stepped in and offered Jesse advice.

"Jess, I think it might have been a mistake asking Les to go to class with you. She knew almost nothing about the Catholic faith and probably less about God when she started. Maybe she needs to backtrack and start at the beginning, with the basics."

When Jesse started to protest, his mother stopped him with some additional critical observations.

"Does Les even understand the concept of God? Has she accepted his existence? Knowing and understanding the Catechism and rules of the church is all well and good, but I don't think she will ever be able to embrace Catholicism without accepting the basic fundamental concept of God."

Jesse finally understood, seeing that teaching Leslie to run before she knew how to walk was futile, and possibly counter-productive. After church the following week, he approached Fr. Kelly and explained his problem. There was risk in this, Jesse knew, because the pastor was strict and conservative in his approach to leading his congregation. Still, there was little choice. The next closest Catholic parish was in Baxley, but it was a mission parish without permanent staff. With more than a little apprehension, Jesse returned to his family, Mrs. Burke, and Leslie, who were eating donuts in the parish hall, and asked Leslie to speak with Fr. Kelly. Not really knowing exactly what Jesse had planned, she agreed and was escorted to the priest's office down the hall. Jesse introduced her and made to leave, but the Fr. Kelly asked him to stay. Leslie looked relieved.

Jesse repeated, at Fr. Kelly's urging, why he thought it would help for Leslie to speak with the pastor. It took little time for the experienced clergyman to show his agreement with Jesse's mother's evaluation of the situation, and he then asked Leslie if she thought it was accurate, too.

"I guess," she started, feeling a tad uneasy. One thing Leslie Burke did not like was being put into a situation where she didn't have a firm grasp of what was being discussed. "It _is_ confusing. I mean, I can read the words of the Catechism and have an idea of what they mean, but I think Jess's mother is right, I don't have the foundation."

But there was a more fundamental question Leslie needed to answer before the pastor could recommend a course of action.

"My dear, why do you want to learn about our faith?"

The question seemed so simple that Leslie knew the obvious answer could not be the correct one, but she had no other.

"Jesse asked me, and it's important to him."

Fr. Kelly then turned to Jesse, for he knew the boy well, had been observant of his affection towards his friend, and knew him to have a strong faith.

"Jess, why do _you_ want your friend to become a Catholic?"

Leslie listened, and in doing so, gained a valuable insight into Jesse Aarons and the Catholic faith, and Fr. Kelly's confidence in the youth of his parish was greatly bolstered. When Jesse had finished, the pastor looked at Leslie and asked her if this might be the best reason for her conversion. Still a little shocked by what she had heard, and touched deeply by the conviction with which her best friend had said it, Leslie could only nod.

Before leaving, Fr. Kelly gave Leslie a list of dates and times where non-Catholics met with priests to ask questions about Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular. He explained that there was no obligation to attend, and neither was she required to attend any set number of sessions.

"These are held to help answer your questions, nothing more. We find that nearly everyone who attends has some very skewed ideas of the Catholic Church. By answering their questions we allow them to make an informed decision."

With this, Leslie and Jesse thanked Fr. Kelly, left the office, and returned to the parish hall,

- - - - - - - - - - -

As spring neared, Leslie Burke again found that her life seemed to fly by at an uncontrollable pace, just as it had the previous year when she was spending all her fee time at the high school preparing for the musical. This year the drama commitments were only a fraction of what they had been, but her advanced courses were burying her with homework. She was delighted, however, that she could still spend most of her non-class & non-sleeping hours with Jesse. They continued doing their homework and eating dinner together, alternating houses each week. The weekends were often spent sharing chores, taking long walks, and even browsing the internet on Leslie's new computer.

At school, the uncomfortable feeling Leslie had been experiencing since the start of the year had also disappeared. Fulcher and Manning seemed to have given up on tormenting her and were now, rumor had it, extorting money from fourth and fifth graders who were too small to stand up for themselves and too scared to report the boys. When Jesse came across the activity one day in early March, confirming the rumor, he only restrained himself from reporting them because of the threats they made if turned in. So fearing retribution against one of the smaller kids, Jesse merely walked up to them and interposed himself, hoping his presence would dissuade eventually frustrate the extortionists. In fact, he was scared to death, for although he was taller and heavier than either Manning or Fulcher, he had little practical experience with fighting. Had he and Tom still been friends, he might have behaved differently.

A few days after this event, Leslie found a note from Jesse in her locker asking her to meet him behind the gym between sixth and seventh period. He had told her of what he'd found about Fulcher and Manning and she assumed that he wanted to try some intimidation of his own. As both she and Jesse had activity for seventh period, and being late wouldn't cause problems, Leslie didn't give the request a second thought, except that she was looking forward to getting her two tormenters in trouble. Unfortunately, in her eagerness to obtain some payback from the boys who had irritated her all year, the normally obedient student forgot she was breaking a school rule: remaining in the building during the day.

Leslie brought her jacket to fifth period and stealthfully slipped out a door into the grounds when the bell rang to change classes. Seconds later she came around the corner of the gym, but Jesse was nowhere in sight. Before she had time to think, Leslie heard footsteps behind her and turned, expecting to see Jesse approach.

But it wasn't Jesse.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_A__/N:_ _According to the last review I received, this story is _boring_. I agree, so I'll wrap-up this part in the next couple chapters and relieve you of further annoyance. The next chapter will resolve the mess Leslie has gotten herself into, and wrap-up with Jesse finally having the birthday he'd always wanted. The year will finish with Jesse and Leslie sharing, for the first time, thoughts about their future together. As for the future of _A Life Rescued_, I'm not sure. I had planned to take this through ninth grade, but probably won't do that. If I do stop here there will be a brief epilogue._

_I intentionally left out Jesse's answer to Fr. Kelly's question about why he wanted Leslie to become part of his faith. There were many reasons I could have put in there as a response, but really, only one or two would have bee__n good. Think about what they might be and how they might have touched Leslie's heart._

_I make references to __'activity period' in the later part of this chapter. Activity is analogous to home room in high school: a free period to read or catch up on homework. _

_I just finished the _His Dark Materials_ series (the one starting with The Golden Compass). I think I'll need a lot of fluff in the coming days to make-up for those last two chapters._


	34. Part 4: The Loss

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 34 – The Loss**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_Note: Near the end of this chapter is a spoiler to The Amber Spyglass. I will __give warning so as not to ruin the ending for you._

Leering suggestively, but otherwise acting in a completely non-threatening manner, Ricky Manning took a few steps towards Leslie and stopped, but when she turned to walk away, she found Gary Fulcher approaching from the opposite direction. _His_ manners, centering on a backpack full of books being swung threateningly, knotted Leslie's stomach. Looking for another escape route was futile, she realized, there was a solid wall of evergreens blocking the only other possible way out. She was trapped, and knew it.

"Hello, _Heather_," Manning said casually, almost indifferently.

"Jesse's meeting me here any second. What do you two want?" she spat in her most contemptuous voice.

Both boys laughed, and then Manning spoke again.

"Oh, you mean that note we left for you? I thought by now you'd know your boyfriend's handwriting."

From the moment she found herself trapped, Leslie suspected that the note had been faked. What she had not expected was the near total paralysis overcoming her. These two troublemakers had, up until now, seemed like little more than playground bullies. Yet through the panic setting into her brain and freezing her body, Leslie realized that Manning and Fulcher were far more than bullies. For the first time in her life, she feared for her physical safety. She held her books to her chest protectively, and a wave of nausea washed over her as she went through a list of things they might do. Unable to move her legs, Leslie could only turn her head to watch the two approach, and it was obvious they could see she was terrorized.

"Don't worry, _Heather_, we're not going to touch you. Guys like Fulcher and me aren't good enough for rich-bitches like you." He smirked, looking her over from head to foot. The mental undressing he gave her nearly made Leslie gag. "And besides, we have other more interesting pursuits. Right, Gary."

Leslie had been facing Manning while he spoke, but now she noticed Fulcher, he was much closer than seconds earlier, breathing rapidly. She hoped it was because he was scared, too.

"Why don't you show _Heather_ a sample of our business proposition, Gary," Manning said offhandedly. His words and manners were so relaxed that Leslie nearly dropped her guard, and as of yet, neither boy had made any obvious advance at her. Fulcher was leaning against the side of the school and seemed preoccupied with whatever it was he had in left hand. His right hand, having dropped his backpack, couldn't be immediately seen. Leslie heard Manning again tell Fulcher to show her the picture. With obvious reluctance, the other boy turned the printed side towards her and held it out.

If Leslie had been more astonished, confused, and upset in her life, she could not recall the time. Only through great effort was she able to prevent her face and tearing eyes from revealing the emotions threatening to engulf her. When her shaking hand reached for the proffered picture, she could finally see that Fulcher's other hand was moving in his pocket.

Instantly realizing what Fulcher was doing sent a flood disgust through Leslie and restored her ability to move, and she completely lost control. Throwing down her books and the picture, and screaming in fury, Leslie leapt at, and on to, her one-handed opponent, catching him completely unawares. It was hardly a graceful attack, but it worked well enough. With his feet tangled, Fulcher was knocked backwards roughly, tripping and falling to the ground where he landed hard on his back. There was no way for him to cushion the fall: one hand was caught in his pocket and the other had been pushed aside by a blonde blur. His head bounced off the pavement with a sickening thump.

It only took three seconds to deck Fulcher, but Leslie knew she had been lucky, and it also left her exposed to Manning, who was bigger and stronger than she was. Worse still, he was out of sight behind her. Before she could even turn, a hand grabbed her shoulder and she did the only thing she could think of to escape. With all her strength, she sprang up and back, using all the power in her muscular legs to throw herself into Manning's chest. The unexpected sound of her skull meeting his chin was gruesome, and her own pain was terrific, but a highly satisfactory image of broken teeth came to her as she felt her body fall backwards. Both landed hard and had their wind knocked out. Still unable to catch her breath from her first attach, Leslie felt consciousness slip away.

---

When Leslie had not turned up at activity as expected, Jesse figured she had stopped to speak with another teacher or make a trip to the bathroom. The sight of Tom Jacobs sticking his head into the classroom, however, and ignoring the teacher demanding to know why he wasn't in class, gave Jesse a discomforting wave of dread. He knew that if Tom was there, looking like he did, then something was wrong with either Leslie or Grace. Or both. Setting aside the resentment towards his ex-friend, Jesse stood calmly – much more calmly than he felt – and walked out of the classroom.

"_Jess, it's Les!_" said Tom, grabbing Jesse's shirt and pulling him away from the classroom door as it shut. "I saw her sneak out a door between periods, and Manning followed a minute later. And…and Fulcher's usually in my math class, but he's missing, too."

"Are you sure? Show me where."

"_No!_ Listen to me, Jess. Go get an adult and I'll look back behind the gym, that's where they were heading."

Tom had shifted into what Jesse and Leslie used to call his _command mode_, a byproduct of living with his father, they assumed. Jesse also knew that when he was focused like that there was no point in arguing about any directions he'd given, even if they were about who would help Leslie. He nodded and ran for the office, his stomach churning.

Neither boy had noticed the activity period teacher on the phone calling for help with two grossly disobedient students.

By the time Jesse had convinced the office secretary and Principal Turner that there might be a real problem brewing, the action behind the gym was reaching its climax. Turner called for the Vice Principal, but she wasn't there, so he scurried off alone to find out what was happening while the secretary called next door to the high school for one of their security guards. Jesse was told to remain in the office where he paced, back and forth, seething.

Turner returned a minute later, out of breath, to instruct the secretary to contact the police and call for an ambulance. Hearing this, Jesse bolted for the door, but Turner grabbed him and angrily told him that Leslie appeared to be ok and to wait in the clinic for her. Feeling trapped, Jesse stomped back to the clinic as directed. Principal Turner, hoping more than knowing the Burke girl was not seriously hurt, headed back outside.

---

What Leslie Burke _didn't_ know was that when she had flung herself at Gary Fulcher, Tom Jacobs, who had already snuck up behind her other preoccupied opponent, had knocked him down with a swing of his heavy pre-algebra textbook.

_Dad always told me Mat__h would come in useful some day; this must be the day!_ he mused to himself. Then seeing Leslie struggling to get off Fulcher, Tom stepped over to help her up. The next moment he was seeing stars and crunching on small chips of teeth. Staunching the blood from his chin and lip as best he could, Tom again tried to check on Leslie.

"Leth, Leth, are you all-white?"

"_No!_ My head hurts…_what are you…?_" Groaning, Leslie tried to sit up but the pain was so bad she became dizzy.

_And who's talking to me?_

"Leth, lay down. Mithter Turner ith ge'ing' hep."

Trying to focus her eyes and stop her head from spinning, Leslie lay back on the cold hard concrete. Looking to the right she saw the unmoving form of Ricky Manning a couple yards away. He looked to be out cold.

_Then who's…?_

A hand touched her arm and she instinctively screamed and twisted on the ground to protect herself. Too fast! The little stability she had regained was instantly gone and she found the world again spinning nauseatingly before her eyes. She was also quite certain Tom Jacobs was next to her, his chin and lips were both bleeding, and his two upper incisors chipped, but through his obvious discomfort, Leslie could tell he was rather pleased with himself.

"Tom? What…? How did you…?" Leslie tried to make her mind and mouth coordinate their actions, but it was still too difficult. She half-collapsed back down onto the cold concrete.

"Juth thut up and thtay down, you probaby have a concuthon. Why did you do tha' to me?"

"D' wha'?" Leslie moaned, her mouth half immobilized by the sidewalk.

"Jump up like tha'? Dad'th gonna _kill_ me! Jeeth, wook at my fweaking teeth!" Tom spat out a disgustingly large clot of blood.

"Can't you do that somewhere else?"

"No, it therveth you wight. thtupid bone-headed girl."

The slight, however, didn't register on Leslie. She was beginning to put together the pieces of what had happened, and with the sounds of approaching students or adults she needed to make a very quick decision. When Tom stood and walked towards the sounds of footsteps, she reached over to her books, which lay scattered between the still unmoving Fulcher and the now groaning Manning, and felt for the humiliating photo she had been given. She folded it in half, length-wise, and then again, and slipped it into her blouse, earning herself a long and painful paper cut across her stomach for her troubles. There was little time left, Leslie knew, for her to make up a story that didn't include the photo. A sound caught her attention. Turning her head again, she saw Principal Turner had returned with the school nurse. In the distance was the sound of an approaching emergency vehicle.

In the clinic, half an hour later, Leslie lay on a cot with a cold pack pressed to the bump on her head. She still felt a little queasy when she moved too quickly, and her head throbbed painfully, but she had been declared concussion-free by one of the paramedics and the nurse on duty that day. Her assailants, not so fortunate, had been ambulanced to the Emergency Medical Care clinic in Baxley: Fulcher had a bad concussion and Manning needed a couple stitches for a laceration on his scalp where his head grazed a protruding brick on the exterior gym wall. In another room, Leslie could hear Jesse talking quietly to Tom, whose lisp had become more pronounced as his injured lip and tongue continued to swell.

Judy Burke picked up her daughter and Jesse a short time later, after speaking with Principal Turner and a police officer. Her expression was grave as she drove home, and she didn't speak to either adolescent, but that was fine with them: Leslie's head still hurt and Jesse felt miserable all-round. When they approached the Aarons house, Judy turned the car off, and to the kid's surprise, told her daughter that they would all go in. Jesse was happy, but Leslie grimaced and followed sullenly. She still carried the picture under her blouse and it was constantly rubbing against the paper cut it had given her, causing more unwanted aggravation.

Mary Aarons met them at the door and the three entered to find Bill Burke already in the living room holding Jimmy and Brian, one on each knee.

"Jack can't get home for at least another hour, Jude. He said we should start without him," Mary said gravely.

Judy nodded as she sat next to her husband, taking Jimmy. As soon as Brian saw his older brother, he started fussing to be released. Bill set him on the carpet and watched him crawl, full speed, over to Jesse.

"I guess there's no sugar-coating this," Judy started ominously. The other two adults gave her every attention. Jesse and Leslie, sitting next to each other, were blissfully unaware of what Mrs. Burke was about to say.

"Les, you've been suspended from school for two weeks, and very likely expelled, Principal Turner told me."

Jesse watched and listened, feeling reality slipping away as his friend's face took on an expression of surprise, followed closely by amusement.

"Right, Mom, very funny. Why the big joke?"

Neither of her parents was smiling, but the statement _was_ so totally outrageous she knew they were pulling her leg.

"Oh, cut it out, Mom, Dad. I didn't…"

Leslie stopped. She knew that neither her mother nor her father were good at keeping a straight face. She wasn't sure about Jesse's mother, but she wasn't looking amused, either. The only other possibility was…

As the reality of her mother's statement finally registered, Leslie shouted with so much emotion both babies started crying, "_NO WAY! What did I do?_"

"Les," Bill Burke spoke this time. "Your statement to the police. You said…"

"_I know what I said, Daddy!_ They tricked me into the grounds…"

"Which is against school rules," Judy said quietly. Leslie ignored her.

"They surrounded me. I…I had…I had to…"

And there it was, she realized. Fulcher and Manning had not gotten what they came for, but what they _did_ get was far better. They had drawn her out to extort something from her, but _she_ had physically attacked _them_. And the only piece of evidence that could exonerate her was under her shirt. Like a deflated balloon, Leslie seemed to collapse onto Jesse's shoulder.

It took a couple minutes for Leslie to gather her thoughts before she spoke again, trying to explain her actions without telling the whole truth. "But they were _threatening_ me. I _had to_ defend myself! I couldn't just let them…get me. Fulcher was swinging his backpack…and…and…"

Judy moved to the arm of Bill's chair and glanced at Mary. "That isn't the story Ricky Manning told the security guard. He said they saw you leave the building and followed you to make sure you were ok."

Jesse and Leslie both spat out eerily similar sounding laughs.

"Them? Protect _Les_? _You've got to be kidding!_ They've been tormenting her all year…"

To Leslie's shame and embarrassment, Jesse proceeded to tell both sets of parents the details of nearly every time she had been bullied, pranked, cut-down, or intimidated by two boys over the past seven months. Again, Mary and Judy exchanged knowing glances, but remained silent until Jesse was finished. When he was, tears were in his eyes and he was in danger of hyperventilating. Neither set of parents had any doubt of Jesse's honesty.

No one spoke for half a minute, but when they did it only made Leslie realize the terrible position she had put herself in.

"Jess," his mother said quietly, "why didn't you or Leslie tell us about this?"

"We…"

"I…"

"We wanted to handle it ourselves," Jesse pleaded. "We didn't want to sound like weak, whining kids!"

"Oh Les, Jess, I admire you both, but don't you see what's happened?" said Judy quietly. "You've fed directly into the story these two boys are spinning. If you go to Mr. Turner with this now, it will look like _you're_ making it up." Rubbing her face, Judy got up and walked away for a moment to compose herself. Jesse's mother, however, had more to say.

"Jesse, what else has been happening at school you haven't told us about?"

"Honest, Mom, nothing. But…but why is Les in trouble? _She was defending herself!_"

Mary finally lost her temper and patience. "_FROM WHAT?_ _Neither boy had touched her, and a swinging backpack hardly sounds like a lethal weapon. From what the police have heard, from BOTH sides, Leslie and Tom Jacobs attacked them!_"

Speechless, Jesse sat looking back and forth, from his mother to Leslie, who, it seemed, was falling apart before his eyes. He didn't know that the only evidence to justify his girlfriend's behavior, and reverse the entire situation, was but inches away. He suspected Tom Jacobs was facing the same thing at his house.

Leslie, however, quickly came to the realization that the picture was the linchpin on which the entire situation rested. She could show her parents what Manning and Fulcher had used to try to shame her into whatever their ultimate plan had been, and possibly have it exposed to the entire community, or she could keep quiet and face her punishment. Not knowing which to do, Leslie simply sat, shaking her head in disbelief. And what was so completely absurd about the entire event, she knew, was that everybody's _perception_ of what had happened was completely incorrect.

After a minute of silence, Leslie sniffled and sat up.

"Would it be ok for me to talk to Jess, alone, for a few minutes?"

Her parents shrugged helplessly and Leslie rose, pulling Jesse up with her, and walked to the front porch. Behind them the three adults started a quiet conversation.

They sat quietly on the porch swing for a few minutes, Jesse not really understanding why Leslie had asked him to come out, except, perhaps, for moral support. As he was about to ask a question, Leslie undid one button on her blouse, removed the picture, and handed it to Jesse. As she did, he was quite certain he had never seen his friend acting so shy and embarrassed. She was speechless and her face the color of a ripe tomato.

Jesse opened the picture, printed on some sort of photographic paper made for an ink-jet printer, and looked. What his eyes were seeing and what he knew of his best friend were so completely divergent that Jesse had to actually bite his tongue to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The image brought back the sickening feeling he had when Tom had shown him pictures of the Keane girls…._But Leslie?_

Too stunned to move, Jesse refolded it and handed the photo back. His brain had now fully registered what he had just seen, though he did not want to believe it. And the tentative reconciliation he and Tom had started in the clinic was now over. He hated Tom Jacobs like he had never hated another person. Jesse knew that if the boy had walked up to him this moment he would beat the crap out of him.

"How could he do that…?" asked Jesse, addressing it to no one in particular. "I'm going to _KILL_ him!"

Looking towards Leslie, though, he was surprised to see she was not angry.

"Les! How can you…? _Argggg!_" In frustration, Jesse jumped up and stamped across the porch, not wishing to hear the answer. A hand came down on his shoulder.

"Jess, that's not me," said Leslie calmly, definitively.

"_How do you know…?_ Oh, sorry…right… I didn't mean it like that…but then, who is it?"

"I don't know how they did it, Jess," admitted Leslie, her voice fragile. "What I am certain about is that I've never done that. Besides," she continued, even more softly, "that's not how…I mean, I don't look like…Oh for Pete's sake!" Throwing her hands up in frustration and embarrassment, she walked back to the swing.

"Les, you _have to_ show that to your parents. It proves Fulcher and Manning were trying to make you do something…awful. Probably illegal, too."

_You don't know the half of it_, Leslie thought to herself, recalling what Fulcher was doing that set her off. "I can't show _this_ to my parents, Jess!"

Then, as if there wasn't enough discomfort and tension, Bill and Judy walked out the front door and asked their daughter what ii was they couldn't see.

The reply came out of their daughter's mouth, quietly: "Nothing."

"Nothing?_ What the hell do you mean, NOTHING, Leslie?" _her mother shouted, completely losing her composure._ "You're probably going to be expelled, unless you have some damned good reason for your actions. And the police just called on my cell telling me to bring you into the station for questioning. That boy you knocked down…his parents are pressing charges for assault!"_

Jesse watched on in sorrow as his girlfriend tried to decide which was best. He sat down on the swing, encouraging her to get everything out and into the open. Leslie seemed to shrink in defeat, as he had never seen before; the usually happy girl he knew looked as though she wanted to evaporate.

But Leslie knew it was inevitable, and soon reached down and again removed the picture, this time handing it shakily to her mother. Before they could open it, she sprinted away towards her house. Jesse considered following, but then realized Mr. and Mrs. Burke didn't know the whole story and thought it best if he stayed.

Looking back at Leslie's parents, Jesse saw and heard both gasp in obvious disappointment and alarm. This was their little girl, laying exposed, for all to see. A huge smile on her face, as if she was genuinely having fun.

"Oh, Les…" her father started, his voice thick with disappointment. Mrs. Burke was speechless.

"Um, Mr. Burke, Mrs. Burke? That's not Leslie," said Jesse as calmly as he could, and even more thankful his mother wasn't there.

"You _saw_ this, Jess?"

"Yes, sir. That's why Les brought me out here."

"I don't…understand," Judy Burke said between sobs.

"I know it looks like her, but it's…it's not her. Um, not exactly."

Jesse, at this point, was praying that he wouldn't be asked _how_ he knew that it wasn't Leslie, but that prayer went unanswered.

"_What?_ Then who is it? And why does our _daughter_ have this…this _shit_ anyway?" Bill Burke asked, shaking the photo. Bill seldom lost his temper, but Jesse could tell he was on the brink. He had to tell the whole story; they needed it to prove Leslie guiltless, in any event.

"It's a composite…that's Les's head but someone else's body. We do this all the time in Tech Tools…I mean, not like _that_, with our classmates, changing heads and bodies. It's pretty funny, really…especially mixing the guy's heads with the girl's…" He saw the Burkes were not laughing. "Um, anyway, this must be why Fulcher and Manning wanted to get Les alone, to show her this and blackmail her into something. They've been terrorizing the younger kids all year, stealing their lunch money, that kind of stuff. I guess they were thinking bigger."

The dangerous rage was gone from Bill Burke's face, Jesse saw, replaced with a shadow of hope, but Leslie's mother was still not convinced.

"Jess, are you sure this isn't…oh God! How do you _know_ this isn't Leslie? It looks like her."

Feeling his own anger well up inside because his best friend's parents didn't accept his word, let alone believe their daughter would do such a thing, Jesse scowled and replied rudely, "Do _you_ think Les would do something like _that_? _I don't._ Besides, um, Les's hair is blonde, not red." With a scarlet face, Jesse pointed out the obvious, said he was going to find Leslie, and ran off.

Judy, still too upset to completely understand everything Jesse had given them, looked to her husband for further details. Bill simply pointed to a spot on the picture.

"It's not Leslie, Jude, and I can see why she didn't want this to come out. I think we need to contact Mr. Turner and the police before those two idiots spread more lies."

Nodding, Judy took the picture and went inside to explain to Mary what had happened. She knew her husband would be too embarrassed to point out the details.

The entire story never leaked out, much to Leslie's and Jesse's relief. Indeed, both sets of parents, knowing how damaging rumors can be, were profoundly grateful, but the fallout from this sad chapter in Lark Creek Elementary School's history was nowhere near complete. As should be expected, Gary Fulcher and Ricky Manning were expelled, and with little opposition from their parents when the whole _true_ story emerged. A quick examination of Manning's computer filled in many blanks. The threatened charges against Leslie and Tom never materialized, but that was the end of the good news.

Both Leslie and Tom were suspended for a week for leaving the building during school hours. Jesse was suspended for two days for failing to return to his activity classroom and disobeying the teacher when she instructed him to remain in class. The punitive actions assigned by the Burke and Aarons parents were more severe. A great deal of badly needed yard work was completed that spring, but neither Jesse nor Leslie protested. They were allowed to work together, and besides it being more fun, they accomplished much more than otherwise might have been completed individually.

Mr. Turner offered his resignation from the principal's position, effective the end of the school year, after the school board met and heard testimony about the deplorable state of discipline at the school. The vice principal, whom Jesse knew well, also resigned, but he did not dwell on how it might affect him since he would be in high school the following year.

One part of this ugly event, which never made it beyond the mouths of those directly involved, was the identity of the female upon whose torso Leslie's head was placed. She and Jesse discussed how to tell Barb Keane about this detail, it was obviously her or her next older sister, Maggie, who was exposed from the neck down. Leslie finally agreed to speak with her, and she was the only real choice. As it was, it took Barb a couple days to speak to – or even look at – Jesse. She wasn't ashamed, she told Leslie at lunch the first day after her suspension was over, rather, she was disappointed with society in general for making such a big deal about the natural beauty of the human form. But she did promise to perform a close inspection of their fence and cover up other sources of temptation.

The feud between Jesse Aarons and Tom Jacobs, predictably, began to fade, but still required one final confrontation before Jesse would consider calling him _friend_ again. That happened in late March when Tom pulled Jesse aside one day in P.E. and formally apologized for what he had done with the camera. Still harboring a good deal of anger about Leslie's fake picture, Jesse tried to point out to Tom how his careless handling of the photos might have ruined his best friend's reputation.

"Huh? That wasn't one of my pictures," pleaded Tom, but without swaying Jesse. In fact, upon hearing Tom's denial, Jesse was ready to punch him.

"But, Jesse, it is true!" he continued, in complete sincerity. "I deleted _all_ those pictures after that R.E. class just before Christmas. I got your message. And I _never_ showed them or sent them to anyone. I swear!"

"Then where did it come from?" demanded Jesse, not sure if he should believe what he was hearing.

"How should I know? Maybe Fulcher or Manning took it. You said Les…I mean, Barb, was lying on that ugly green lounge chair, right?"

"Yeah, so what about it?"

"That chair wasn't in any of my pictures; in all mine, the Keanes were standing."

"Oh…yeah, that's right…Sorry," Jesse said contritely.

"So you've been pissed-off at me for nothing?" hedged Tom cautiously.

"It was hardly _nothing_, Tom. You took those pictures and showed them to me, and whoever else!" Jesse snarled and his anger flaring. "It's hard enough trying to keep my mind clean without that kind of crap. Just don't do it again, or don't tell me about it. And if I ever find you've taken ones of Les I'll…"

"_No!_ Jess, I swear," Tom exclaimed frantically. "Really, I wouldn't do that."

"Well...ok."

"I'm not some kind of pervert, Jess..."

Grace, who had not been made privy to all the details of the fight behind the gym, and its reasons, only knew that her brother had done something good: Her father's delight over his son's gallantry in watching out for Leslie was lauded daily for a week. But he had also done something terrible, but Tom's inaccurately assigned role in supplying the torso of the picture was not shared with the youngest Jacobs. What did matter the most to her was that Tom was again on speaking terms with Jesse Aarons.

By the first week of April, the seven friends were again sitting together at lunch. There were still awkward moments as three of their group never found out exactly what had happened that day, other than Manning and Fulcher attacking Leslie. Jesse, Leslie, Barb, and Tom promised to keep it that way, and Jesse still had to face his own issues with what Tom had done, but ultimately decided that, while wrong, he was not a pervert, just a teenage boy with raging hormones who suffered from a lapse in judgment. Ultimately, the experience drew the two boys closer together: Once Jesse had worked through his anger he was able to better appreciate what Tom had done in saving Leslie from her assailants. Leslie took this in stride, and even though knowing she had probably not been in any real physical danger, kidded the two boys about how she was probably the only person in Lark Creek whose two best male friends had saved her life.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Although Jesse was still in the doghouse for his actions in March, his parents agreed to their son's wish for a quiet fourteenth birthday, and they didn't need to ask what he wanted to do, either. April 11th fell on a Sunday that spring, and the only thing he desired was to spend it with Leslie. Since the start of the year, both had been anxious and eager to visit their hermit-like friend, Mr. Boone, and bring him a few Christmas gifts and sweets from town. Over the past two years, Jesse and Leslie had come love the old, crusty, cantankerous mountain man. The secrets he shared of his little holler; the overfriendly pack of stray dogs he kept for company, the small, almost magical canyon hidden behind the towering granite spires just a few hundred yards from his ramshackle cabin; its spring-fed pool at the far end where they sometimes brought their closest friends; and the hill they had first seen with Tom and Grace after their mother had died, and where Jesse discovered he would be able to draw again. All these things had become symbols of another step from child to adult for Jesse and Leslie, and as they had come to embrace the old man, they were learning to accept and look forward to some of the deeper and more serious responsibilities bound to be thrust upon them. However, these deep symbols and duties were far from their conscious mind on Jesse's fourteenth birthday, there were more personal things to talk about.

With P.T. cheerfully following his two masters, Jesse and Leslie set out early Sunday morning. They were carrying a heavy load of gifts – they had both gone a bit wild buying for the old geezer – and more than twenty pounds of canned foods, sweets, and home made treats in their two backpacks; plus water and food of their own. Feeling a little like Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus, they began their trek in high spirits, and these spirits remained high for the first two miles, but they were rapidly coming to learn how much a heavy backpack could dig into their shoulders and swiftly drain energy. Their excellent physical conditioning, however, prevailed and they arrived at the cabin with little more than sore shoulders.

The usual pack of mongrels was not present to greet Jesse and Leslie, but Mr. Boone was sitting in the mid-morning sun, his rifle across his lap. He closed an old wooden lap desk where moments before he had been writing a letter, and waved to his visitors. Forgetting their discomfort, the two friends ran the last few hundred yards with backpacks bouncing wildly and P.T. sprinting past them to see his former master. Jesse let Leslie set the pace so they might arrive together. Laughing for the last fifty yards, puffing and winded, they collapsed onto the edge of the porch and immediately shed their backpacks.

"Howdy you two. Happy new year and all that," Mr. Boone greeted them, but though obviously delighted with the company, their friend looked thinner and paler than the previous fall, and he could not hide the occasional wince from pain. "I hope you weren't carrying any pop cans with you, if you are, point them away from me when you open them."

The kids laughed and assured him there was nothing carbonated nearby.

"Well now, what are you two doing? Your parents letting you camp out by yourselves now?"

Jesse wasn't certain, but he thought the old man winked at him.

"No, we brought you your Christmas presents and some things from the store," Leslie said, her cheeks darkening just a bit as she opened her pack and pulling out a small tinned ham.

"Christmas gifts? For last or next Christmas?"

Jesse cringed a little, but Mr. Boone didn't really seem upset by their long absence, and he was distracted by Leslie throwing her arms around his neck, giving an affectionate embrace. However, Jesse noticed a worried look on her face as she let go.

"None of that, young lady. Save them for your beau," he chuckled, pointing at Jesse. "Well now, let's bring my loot inside and you two can tell me what mischief you've been up to the past six months."

The old man rose slowly and Jesse saw the cause of Leslie's alarm. He waited until their host had gone inside and then looked to his girlfriend; she had an anxious look on her face.

"Jess," she whispered, "he's nothing but skin and bones. Do you think he's sick?"

Nodding silently, he picked up both backpacks and went inside, Leslie trailing worriedly.

The kids unpacked the items they brought and Mr. Boone shuffled back and forth, placing each in its place until he had to sit to catch his breath. Both noticed that there appeared to be sufficient food in the cupboards, but that only made their dread deeper. If he wasn't eating because of insufficient food, that was one thing; if he was so thin for another reason, that reason could not be good.

"So, you two, what are your plans for the day? Heading up to the grand canyon?"

Often Mr. Boone had called the canyon _grand_ in jest, but his tone was not particularly happy this day. He gave a deep, wet cough, cleared his throat, and stepped back to the small table to sit. He coughed again, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, and seemed to rally a little.

"Maybe," Jesse hedged, thinking they might change their plans after seeing the state Mr. Boone was in.

Small talk was not something Leslie usually had trouble with, but she suddenly found herself unable to speak. Looking to her boyfriend, she saw he too was at a loss for words. Finally she thought of something.

"Where are all your dogs, Mr. Boone?"

"Well now, the truth is I couldn't take care of them no more so I took them to the shelter in town last November. Big Jake had gotten bit by a rattler just after your last visit and I had to put him down, and the others…well, I needed some quiet time. Had lots to think over." Jesse and Leslie traded another worried glance while Mr. Boone struggled to clear his throat. When he started talking again they gave him their full attention. "I don't know if you two remember, but when I first showed you around up there I told you of another place special to me, nearby that pool. I think I better tell you about it before…"

But he was interrupted by another frightening coughing spell. Leslie asked if he wanted to go outside and sit in the sun, but he waved her off.

"Don't mind me, young lady, these things come and go. I think I'll lay down a bit and then, if you're still around, we can have a bite together."

"We're not going anywhere, Mr. Boone," said Jesse reassuringly. "Les and I will be out on the porch, just call if you need anything."

Waving the kids off with a grateful smile, the old man shuffled, almost stumbling into his bed, and lay down. He looked uncomfortable so Leslie took one of the small pillows from the old sofa and helped him find a more relaxed position. Jesse unfolded a comforter, for it was still cool in the cabin, and laid it from his feet to his chest. They were again waved off and started to leave when Mr. Boone spoke one last time before drifting off.

"I'm mighty glad you two are here. Jess, you make sure I'm up in an hour or so, ok? Then I'll tell you about that other place." With another deep cough, the man turned away from the door and Jesse and Leslie walked outside.

"Stay here," Leslie said as soon as they were outside, but _she_ didn't stay on the porch, instead she took the cell phone from her pocket and started dialing.

"What're you doing?" asked Jesse, trying not to raise his voice for fear of disturbing the old man, but the question was ignored and Leslie walked off further, towards the knoll about a quarter mile off. Seeing her repeatedly dial, he assumed, correctly, that she couldn't get a signal and was trying for the higher ground. When she returned, Jesse could tell it had been futile.

"No luck?"

"No. Has he called for you?"

"I…I don't think he _will_, Les," Jesse said a little nervously.

"D-do you think he's…do you think he's…dying?"

Leslie knew full well that that was exactly what was happening, it was why she had tried to call home, and why Jesse was sitting, fidgeting uneasily on the porch. They both knew. As the requested hour approached, however, both heard movement inside the cabin and jumped up to see the cabin door opening in front of them.

"I feel a might better now" Mr. Boone said in a wheezing voice. "Thanks for hanging around."

"Um, Mr. Boone, are you ok?" queried Jesse, feeling a little foolish for his earlier fears.

"Hell no, I'm not alright. Every time I lay down don't know if I'll be gettin' up again." He straightened up, winced, and looked at his two concerned guests. "I see you two know it, too. Well now, I'm shouldn't be surprised, should I? You're both pretty sharp."

Sitting on the porch chair, where Jesse and Leslie first saw him, the old man began another round of deep coughs, but this time it was obvious to Jesse and Leslie that the illness was far more serious and advanced than they had realized. When he moved his handkerchief away from his mouth it was speckled with bright red blood. Folding the hankie slowly, no attempt was made to hide the sign of a life ending.

"Yep, lung cancer; you'd of figured it out soon enough, I recon. Doc told me last fall, said I had six months, and that sounds about right."

Leslie's face had fallen as she heard the words, and even though it was not much of a surprise, it still left her feeling empty and pained.

"Is there anything we can do, Mr. Boone?" asked Jesse.

"Nothing else, but I'm glad you two are here. Jess, would you fetch my lap desk from the table inside?"

Jesse immediately jumped up and did as asked, handing it over as soon as he returned. Mr. Boone set it lovingly on his lap – it was very old and well worn - and opened the top, retrieving a large folded envelope.

"There's some papers in there I need you two to take to the county clerk's office. I don't have any relatives and I've deeded the land to the county with the understanding that it be turned into a park for camping and that type of thing. Maybe them Boy Scouts can do something with it. Anyway… ah…" Jesse and Leslie nearly jumped when the body of their frail friend seemed to explode in another spate of coughing. Unable to get to his handkerchief in time, blood shot out between Mr. Boone's fingers and he cringed in pain. Leslie ran inside and brought out a damp towel to help clean up the blood from his hand and face. Apparently dazed, the old man sat still while he was ministered to. When Leslie finished, he started speaking again, but it was clear that the man's life was nearly over.

"These are part of my will…the deed of gift…has to be witnessed…and it appears I…won't be around much longer…so I want you two as…my witnesses. Some god-damned…fancy-pants lawyer…will probably say…it's invalid because…you both are minors, but…right now I don't care…You've been the only…family I've had the…past few years, 'cept for…the dogs…well, you know what I mean."

After another short coughing attack, the old man removed some pages from the large envelope and wrote notes with a shaking had that had the two kids wondering if he would finish before he keeled-over.

"Alright, Jess, you…sign here, here, and here. And…put the date down, too. Good, now you, young lady…" His eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment as he watched Leslie approach, as if he were remembering another young woman in another lifetime. Leslie took the pen and was given similar instructions. When complete, he took the three pages and signed them himself, returned them to the envelope, sealed it, and was finished.

"Good, now that…that's done I want you…to take it with you and get going. I know I said we'd…have a bite to eat but…I'm feeling poorly again and…want to be by myself. I don't think…maybe it's best we said…our goodbyes now."

Jesse took the envelope and stuffed it into his backpack. He felt numb at what the man had just said, and looking to Leslie saw her stepping forward hesitantly to give him a hug. With open arms, the old mountain man embraced her lovingly and gave her a quick buss on her cheek as she pulled back. Jesse shook his hand and found himself surprisingly moved by the warmth radiating from their frail old friend. For a moment he pulled Jesse closer, seeming like he would embrace him also, but only said softly, "Take care of each other, son."

With a small wave, Mr. Boone told his guests to, "_Skedaddle._" He then leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes. While Jesse and Leslie got there things together and shouldered their backpacks, both took furtive glances back and saw that the old man appeared to be sleeping again. As they began their journey home, they heard the thump of the lap desk hitting the ground, having slipped from its owners hands.

The eight mile walk home was quiet and uncomfortable for the two adolescents, holding hands and lost in thoughts and memories. Neither spoke much until they were just a mile from home. Feeling a little guilty about Jesse's birthday plans being so altered, Leslie stopped and made an observation, her voice quiet and shaking a bit.

"Jess, I guess he's probably gone now, don't you think?"

"Yeah, probably," replied Jesse glumly.

Pausing to gather her thoughts, Leslie made another observation after a few seconds. "Do you realize that in the four years we've known each other we've witnessed a birth and a death? Well, almost."

"Yeah. I think I like the births better."

"I know what you mean."

Leslie shed her backpack and Jesse did the same. They sat and Leslie leaned against her boyfriend's shoulder, holding his arm.

"Sorry about your birthday, I hadn't planned anything this depressing."

Jesse gave a little laugh. "It's ok, Les. I'm with you and that's what I wanted most." Then he put his arm around Leslie's shoulder and she moved hers to his back. They remained seated and silent for a long time.

"Jess, do you ever think about us…I mean, what will happen to us in the future? High school, and…and, afterwards."

"Yeah, sometimes."

"What do you think about?"

"Les, we're only fourteen…"

"_But, Jess_…what you told Fr. Kelly in his office that day…" Leslie stopped, recalling her boyfriend's words and how they had so completely altered her. "Do you really want that? Us to be together? Always?"

Jesse turned and looked at Leslie's beautiful face, touching her cheek, his own face a mixture of emotions.

"You know, I was talking about, um, when we die and, and, being together in Heaven."

"I know, Jess," she said, her voice was a whisper. The emotions of the day were beginning to show.

"But…" Jesse dragged the word out so it sounded like two syllables.

"Yes?"

The Amber Spyglass SPOILER below.

Jesse answered simply and honestly: "I can't imagine, you know, being without you. Ever. All the time. Like Will and Lyra in The Amber Spyglass. Being without you? I guess I'd feel kinda dead. And, I don't want to be alone like Mr. Boone."

The Amber Spyglass SPOILER above.

Thinking his words a little too lovey-dovey, Jesse was about to restate them, but something prevented it: Leslie threw her arms around his neck and embraced him tightly, and Jesse realized he didn't have to explain himself any further. They both felt the same way.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Time passed slowly as morning became afternoon, but both knew they had to get home and tell their parents about the day. The act of separating themselves was almost too difficult, but gradually they broke apart and gathered their packs for the last mile. It was a somber walk, with the spring birds singing a sweet dirge that brought back memories of their friend. Neither could explain it, but both knew he was now dead. They shared their feelings, both agreeing that his passing to the next world seemed to kill a tiny part of them, a part that Mr. Boone had taken with him; and Jesse and Leslie kept a bit of him alive in their hearts and minds forever. It was a fair trade, Jesse said, as they approached the house.

His father was working in the back yard and seeing the looks on their face knew something bad had happened. Even P.T., normally one to sprint and jump up into his arms, sat silently as the kids told the news.

After hearing the story, Jack Aarons immediately went into town to speak with the sheriff and coroner, informing them about what he had been told. But he went alone through the winding back roads, coming to the cabin mid-afternoon. The coroner would normally have accompanied him on such a trip, but the informal nature of rural Virginia, and Jack Aarons' reputation, were enough for the sheriff to consent to the lone visitor.

Mr. Boone was still sitting in his chair, just as Jesse and Leslie had left him; the only difference was death. Jack knew he was gone before he left his pickup; the peaceful stillness of the man was one that only death could provide. He waited a minute in the truck, praying for the man he'd never met but who had so affected his son. Then he went and picked up the body, no more than ninety pounds he estimated, and laid it in the back of his pickup, in a black plastic body bag the coroner had provided. He returned to the house one more time to look for any personal items, papers, or valuables that might fall victim to thieves, but the only things he took away were the man's rifle and the lap desk, which had fallen to the porch hours earlier.

Jack Aarons said another prayer as he put the two items into the bag with the body, zipped it up, and started home. The early spring sun was setting behind him, but he wasn't sure if its glare in his side mirror was what caused his eyes to tear up.

Stopping at the town's only mortuary, Jack turned the body over, but requested that the mortician wait until the following day for instructions on how to proceed. Jesse had told his father about the documents Mr. Boone had given them, and how they were to be delivered directly to the county clerk. Respecting the request, Jack assumed they contained the man's will with directions on what sort of burial he desired. He'd told the sheriff and coroner this earlier and they raised no objection. The plan was to take Jesse and Leslie to the clerk's office after school the next day and turn over the documents.

The kids were sitting on the porch swing at the Aarons' house when Mr. Aarons returned. He walked from his truck to the front door and looked at his son, nodding solemnly to confirm that their fears were correct. Leslie sighed and sniffed, and then asked Jesse to walk her home. She still had one other thing to talk to him about.

"Jess, do you pray for people like Mr. Boone? People you hardly even know?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Well, when I remember to," he added.

Silence fell for another minute before Leslie spoke again.

"Ok. Jesse, I called Fr. Kelly yesterday and asked him about, you know, becoming a Catholic. Would you still be my sponsor?"

Stunned, but delighted, Jesse stopped and smiled at his best friend. "Of course I will. Are you sure about this?"

"Yep."

"You're not just doing it because I want you to?"

"Nope."

"And your parents are ok with it?"

"They always told me I could make my own decisions about religion."

Jesse smiled again. "Thanks, Les. Really. Thank you."

Leslie took her boyfriend's hand, swinging it playfully as they approached her house, but this unexpected ending to the day moved Jesse to pull Leslie to him and kiss her good night, and thank her again. Before letting go, Leslie stood on her toes and put her mouth to Jesse's ear, speaking a few words she thought might vanish in the night if she said them aloud. His only response was to embrace her again, like he never wanted to let go.


	35. Part 4: The Penultimate

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 35 – The Penultimate**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Monday afternoon, Judy Burke drove the kids into Baxley so they could drop off Mr. Boone's papers with the County Clerk, and hopefully find out what sort of service he desired. (Jesse and Leslie had been distracted all day by thoughts of doing something special for their friend without a family, to the point where both had to be reminded they were still in school by more than one teacher.) The County Clerk's office was in an old bluestone building in the center of town, next to the courthouse. Bluestone was indigenous to the east coast and highly sought after in the Shenandoah and Roanoke Valleys; many of Virginia's municipal buildings, colleges, and universities were built with the attractive blue-gray rock. Walking into the structure felt like entering a mausoleum with its odors of stone, paper, and decay, all infused with a damp chill you would expect to find in a cavern.

The building showed little activity when Judy, her daughter, and Jesse entered at about three-thirty. They explained to the receptionist their business, and asked about checking for their friend's burial wishes. The woman behind the desk queried them about relatives, and Jesse assured her that Mr. Boone had said he had none. Writing a note on a Post-It, the receptionist affixed it to the envelope and took it into another room, returning a few seconds later with an invitation for them to have a seat while the papers were given a cursory examination by her boss. About fifteen minutes later, a plump, middle-aged man, looking much the part of a county clerk with his spectacles, vested suit and a gold watch on a long chain, approached them and asked that they come into his office.

After verifying who each of them were, and that they had signed the papers the day before, the clerk, Mr. Theodore Jolly – a name certain to have brought the rotund man much aggravation over the years – sat back and appeared to eye Jesse and Leslie suspiciously. Before speaking again, he cleared his throat, blew his nose, and scratched some unseen part of his anatomy that made his guests wary about shaking his hand when they left.

"Mrs. Burke, we have a little problem here, actually, _you_ have a little problem." Judy, Leslie and Jesse sat up straighter and wondered what could be wrong. "Let me see. Jesse? What did Mr. Boone say you were signing?"

"Um, he said it was a gift deed, or something like that, to the county. His land, I mean, he was leaving it to the county."

Mr. Jolly's eyebrows rose at the answer. Judy, always wary of lawyers, and having been present at enough legal proceedings over the years to know there was some sort of problem, took out her cell phone to call her husband. As she did, the clerk eyed her suspiciously and asked Leslie the same question. She gave an identical answer.

"Very well," the Clerk said tiredly. "This first document you signed was the will." He held up a few stapled pages. "This one is called a Deed of Gift. It's a legal document, like the will, usually witnessed and signed by adults in the presence of a Notary Public; that's just a fancy name we give to people who verify the signers of legal documents are who they say they are. Obviously that was not done here and…"

"Mr. Boone," Jesse interrupted, "said that he was too sick to go into town to do it proper. He died a little while later so I guess he was right. And he also said that there might be a problem with Les and me witnessing it, because of our age."

"Yes, he was right…technically. In fact, _technically_ two of these documents are in fault and I'll have to decide how to handle them."

By this time Judy was off the phone and back into the conversation. The clerk, clearly not interested in Judy's apparent call for advice, continued.

"The third document is not a binding legal contract, or anything like that. I'll take care of that for you, if you wish. But I believe what you asked about was Mr. Boone's desire for the disposition of his remains. Apparently he addressed the directions only to you, Jesse, and had it in an addressed envelope. It was not sealed so I took the liberty of reviewing it. Here you are."

Jolly handed Jesse the envelope which he immediately opened. In a very neat, very precise, very out-of-date script, the letter simply stated that he desired no memorial service, no funeral, no viewing, and that his body be cremated and his ashes scattered on his land. Jesse's heart sank a bit as he read the note aloud. He had hoped, at the very least, that he and Leslie could plan his memorial service. Saddened, he folded the letter and handed it to Leslie.

At that point, the receptionist's voice came over the intercom stating that there was an important phone call. Sighing, he asked his guests to wait outside while he took care of the other business.

Seated back in the lobby, Judy's phone rang, it was Bill calling back. When she was done, she told the kids that Mr. Burke had asked a lawyer in town to look over the documents, and that he would be calling the clerk shortly. "I guess that's him now," Judy finished.

"You _panicked_, Mom. Dad doesn't need to throw his weight around and bug Mr. Jolly."

"It was no problem, Mrs. Burke," the Clerk called out from his office, obviously having heard Leslie's comment. "Just a formality. Please come back in."

When everyone was again seated, the clerk cleared his voice. "Mr. Boone's will was not witnessed properly, but that does not mean it will not be honored. He did, as you say, leave his property to the county. You might be interested to know that in cases such as these, it is common practice for us, the county, that is, to pay for the deceased's funeral arrangements. Mr. Boone's land holdings are extensive, about nineteen hundred acres, and the county is very grateful for these types of gifts. The Deed of Gift, also improperly witnessed, falls into the same category as the will, and was probably unnecessary, except for your portion."

"What?" Judy interjected, seeing the man was going to continue. "What do you mean 'your portion'?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Burke, I meant Jesse's and Leslie's portions." Seeing the look of confusion on all three faces, Mr. Jolly gave a little chuckle. "I see you didn't read what you signed. Mr. Jesse Aarons Jr. and Ms. Leslie Ann Burke were each left ten acres of land. You really didn't know?"

"No!" all three answered simultaneously.

"Nothing to worry about. The will has to go through probate, any back taxes paid off from the estate, and that sort of thing. When everything's settled the county surveyor will contact you and give you his recommendations. The only problem might be if the will is contested by a long lost relative or some jilted lover." Jolly laughed at his joke. Jesse and Leslie rolled their eyes.

"How long will that take, Mr. Jolly?" asked Judy.

"Oh, a few months, if there are no claims made against it, and anywhere from one to three years if there are."

The kids looked frustrated and ready to go home, so Judy tried to wrap up the loose ends. But the Clerk wasn't finished.

"You two really _didn't_ read anything you signed, did you?" he asked Jesse and Leslie in the most disbelieving tone he could deliver.

"Apparently that runs in Jess's family," teased Judy, in reference to papers Jack Aarons had signed a few years earlier giving a portion of her husband's royalties to Jesse. "As for my daughter? I suppose she can plead ignorance."

"Thanks, Mom."

Judy smiled. "What else have they gotten themselves into?"

Jolly had pulled out a sheet of paper while Judy was talking; he handed it to Jesse and Leslie. Leslie took it.

Reading over her shoulder, Jesse, when finished, sat back and exhaled noisily through his lips. "That was nice of him," he said calmly. Leslie, even less affected by the note than Jesse, simply smiled and handed the paper to her mother.

"The bank is closed by now, Mrs. Burke, but it looks like these gifts were created last year, so they would not fall under the umbrella of the will. You'll need to speak with an accountant about adjusting the taxes, of course…"

Jesse and Leslie sat, not really listening to the Clerk's comments, both less concerned with the contents of the letter than the ten acres of land.

"Wow," Jesse whispered to his girlfriend when he realized the implications of the gifts, as if saying anything else might curse their good fortune. Leslie simply nodded.

The clerk continued giving directions to Judy, which she carefully wrote into her palm pilot, noting dates and locations when necessary. Then, as abruptly as the meeting had started, it was over. All three thanked Mr. Jolly, and forgetting his earlier seemingly unhygienic action, shook his hand and departed.

At dinner that evening, Jesse told his family what had happened. Though he had to endure a couple minutes of jealous stares from his older siblings when he spoke about the land grant, their attitude and behavior instantly reversed when he reached the part about the gift. Taking a Xeroxed copy of the bequeath, he first showed it to his father.

"The clerk said it was for our family, not just me," he added, smiling.

Jack and Mary's eyes appeared to bug out when they saw the figure, and Mary flopped back into her seat with a hand to her cheek. "And we never even met the man," she mumbled in awe. Her husband was unusually quiet as he handed the paper to Ellie. She was a little more vocal.

"_Jesus Christ, Jess! What did you do for this guy?_"

"Ellie! Don't use the Lord's name like that," her mother scolded, though only half-heartedly, still distracted herself.

"Sorry. Wow, that was…_incredibly_ nice of him. What's this other number, Dad?"

"That's what we get after taxes are taken out," her father answered, smirking as Ellie's face fell.

"That sucks. Here." A little deflated, Ellie handed it to Brenda whose reactions were more restrained.

As the letter was passed around the table, Jack Aarons caught his son's eyes and nodded in appreciation, a hint of a smile the only other sign of acknowledgement on his perpetually immovable facial features. But it was enough for the fourteen year old.

In bed later that night, Jesse said a prayer of thanks for his family, Leslie, and Mr. Boone's gift, and fell asleep to dream only about twenty acres of land and Leslie Burke. The money was inconsequential.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Both families drove to the Boone cabin the following weekend to honor the late owner's final request. Unlike all of Jesse's and Leslie's hikes over the years, the weather was rainy and cold, so while the families watched on from inside the cars, Jesse and Leslie, dressed in their Sunday best, walked out together and scattered the ashes in the now overgrown fields next to the cabin, then they went inside, hand in hand, one last time. Everything was exactly as they had seen it when the old man had lay down for a nap only a week earlier. They looked through the drawers and cabinets for a sign of _anything_ to link their friend to a family, but all they found were remnants of the items they had brought over the years: Old cans, a couple Christmas cards, and all the supplies they had brought on the last trip and would never be used.

"Think we should take this stuff back?" Leslie asked quietly, feeling a little like she was suggesting they rob a grave.

"Yeah, but let's take it to the church food pantry, they can use it more than us."

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Leslie began sobbing and buried her face in Jesse chest. He wrapped his arms around her and let his head rest upon hers.

Returning to the car a few minutes later with a burlap sack of canned goods, Jesse put the items in the back of his father's pickup and climbed in with Leslie. When his father heard the explanation, he gave another of his rare approving nods. Without any other words, the three cars headed home.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Spring was in full-bloom when the school put on their production of _Once Upon a Mattress_. It went well, and following the final show Leslie was approached by the high school drama director, Mr. Stamper, who remembered her from _The Sound of Music_ the previous year. He expressed his delight that she was still acting and tried desperately to wring a commitment from her that she would join the drama department as soon as she started ninth grade. Leslie only assured him that she would seriously consider it and the man went away not as happy as he thought he would.

April and Easter came and passed, and Leslie formally began her R.C.I.C. program with Jesse. The Right of Christian Initiation for Children started with long evaluations, some privately with one of the parish priests, and some with both Leslie and Jesse. Leslie's sincerity, devotion, and understanding were all evaluated. She was also given a booklet on the Baltimore Catechism to study. This, more than anything before, began to sour her to what she was doing.

"_Jess, this is crazy!_" was her standard complaint as they worked through the material three times a week. Privately he agreed with many of her points. The Baltimore Catechism tended to come across as arcane, old school, ultra-conservative, but most of all, _boring and condescending_. And Jesse knew he would soon reach a point where Leslie's questions would exceed his knowledge about the Church, and he feared she would give up. This was particularly true when she (often) brought up the concepts of faith and mystery.

"Why does everything say 'It's a mystery'?" she lamented grumpily one Friday night.

"A mystery is just that, Les: something we don't or can't understand. Besides, you already believe in mysteries," he patiently pointed out.

"But Jess, believing in the mystery of…I don't know…_gravity_, that isn't like God. We can measure gravity and how it affects us. We can't see it directly, but it's obviously there." To make her point, Leslie took her thick catechism book and held it above Jesse's head precariously.

Moving quickly, Jesse countered, "And because we can't measure God means He's not there? Remember the first couple lessons about body and spirit? It said that as a spirit, God couldn't be directly observed with our senses, but through faith and the results of God's love. What's wrong now?"

Sitting up, frustrated, Leslie tried to explain her confusion.

"Now it's _faith_, Jess," she retorted irritatedly. "Every mystery you can't explain you say you take on _faith_. I don't have that."

"Sure you do."

"No, I have curiosity and…" Leslie paused and saw Jesse smiling.

"_Faith_, Les. If you didn't have faith, even a little bit, you wouldn't be doing this."

"I wonder," she responded, frowning.

"But it's true. You have enough faith in me to try this, that's something."

Mary Aarons, cooking in the kitchen, smiled at her son's persistence and creativity in keeping Leslie on track, though she sometimes wondered if he skewed the real meaning of their beliefs for simplicity's sake.

"Ok…I guess. Just don't start that 'faith as big as a mustard seed' thing again." Sighing resignedly, Leslie looked back at her books. "What's next?"

"We can work on something else for a while. Fr. Kelly said you don't have to follow any set order with this part." Jesse picked up the thick catechism, blindly opened the book, and handed it to Leslie. "Here, what's this chapter about?"

Leslie began reading:

"'Chapter 2347, The in-te-gral-i-ty of the gift of self.' I _gotta_ look that word up. 'The virtue of chastity...'" She looked warily at Jesse. "'...blossoms in _friendship_. It shows the disciple how to follow and imitate him who has chosen us as his friends…' Blah, blah, blah. Oh, here, it gets better. 'Chastity is expressed notably in _friendship with one's neighbor_.' I guess that's us, Jess." A growing tone of sarcasm was entering her voice and Mary Aarons considered intervening. "'…It leads to spiritual communion…' Jess, this stuff gets creepy at times."

Jesse cringed. _You have no idea!_

When Jesse didn't respond with anything more helpful than a lost look, Leslie finally exploded. "I'm going home, Jess. I've had enough of…chastity and communion for a month." Gathering her books and papers, Leslie left without as much as a goodbye.

"Jess, what was the purpose of all that?" asked his mother, whom he had completely forgotten was only a few yards away. "Are you trying to discourage her?"

"No!"

"Then stick to the program, or don't expect Leslie to be as gung-ho about it as you are. If you don't know the answer, stop trying to pass your interpretations off as the real thing. Here, finish stirring the pudding." Removing her apron and handing it to her son, Mary left the kitchen to see what Brian was fussing about. Jesse tossed the apron on the counter and began mindlessly stirring the pot, wondering if he, Leslie, or the pot was the closest to boiling over.

"Hi Jess." A voice said a minute later, startling Jesse and causing him to splash a glob of boiling chocolate pudding on his hand. He curse quietly and turned. Seeing who it was cheered him a little.

"Hi May. You ready for summer vacation to start?"

"Sure. Jess, guess what? Daddy said I can go to a soccer camp this year because I made the All-Star team!"

Jesse smiled at his sister and she continued to watch him. In only her third season playing _football_, May was rapidly becoming the newest star in house-league soccer around Lark Creek. She was on the small side, but fast, quick, and completely fearless. Jesse was happy some of Mr. Boone's money could be spent on her. Luxuries at the Aarons home, while not as scarce as in the leaner years, were still not common.

"Jess?"

"Yeah, May?"

"When will you take me hiking? You promised last year."

"I know, May. I'm sorry you never got to meet Mr. Boone. He would have _liked_ you, but you would have _loved_ him."

"Was he funny, like Les?" Jesse nodded, turning his attention back to the boiling brown concoction. "Was he smart, like you?"

Jesse smiled. "I bet he was a lot smarter than me _or_ Les."

Jesse turned off the stove and moved the pan to cool. When he looked around, May was still there, quiet, but she obviously had another question on her mind. Jesse took her hand and walked her to the couch and they sat next to each other. After a couple minutes, May finally spoke.

"Jess, you love Les, don't you?"

Jesse smiled and nodded, surprised at how good it felt to acknowledge the fact.

"And Ell says Toby and her are in love."

"That's what I hear."

"When you and Les get married and move away, will you still be my favorite brother?"

For some reason, Jesse was not bothered by his sister's version of his future. He turned to look his sister straight in the eyes and told her something he had never told anyone except Dr. Carlson.

"May, remember last spring when I got sick? Of all the things I had to do to get better the hardest was making the May Belle of my imagination…go away. I know you don't understand everything that happened to me, sometimes I still don't, but that make-believe May Belle was the only thing that kept me alive and fighting at times. I don't know if I could have made it without her. So if Les and I get married and move away, I'll always be your brother and you'll always be my princess."

Jesse found himself a little choked-up, and May was sitting silently, but tears were running down her cheeks and nose. Standing, Jesse pulled his little sister up and hugged her long and hard.

"Now I gotta go and talk to Les; I got her angry about something."

But when Jesse made to let go, May held on and told her brother solemnly, "Let her be, Jess, it won't do no good talking tonight. Wait till tomorrow." She smiled in an innocently knowing way and said confidently, "It's a woman thing, I know all about them now."

Jesse laughed and May laughed, and then Jesse picked her up by the waist and carried her up to her room, depositing her unceremoniously on the bed. She waved as Jesse walked out and jumped up to make sure her soccer jersey, socks, and shin guards were ready for the game the next day. Passing her dresser, with its small collection of Barbie dolls, May stopped, feeling for just a second, an old yearning to play with them. She unconsciously smiled and then turned away, her thoughts focused more on the game than the dolls.

- - - - - - - - - - -

With the school year winding down, and June promising to bring spring to an unusually hot close, the talk at Jesse and Leslie's lunch table was of nothing but High School. Classes had already been selected, but it would be a few more weeks before the friends found out with whom they might be sharing classes. Tom Jacobs and Mikey Sellers, now firmly attached to the Silliard twins, rolled their eyes whenever Lisa or Carol started bemoaning the inevitable separations. Barb Keane, who had been unusually quiet the past three months, looked a bit forlorn without Mark Schiffer, a fellow eighth-grader she had been hanging around with since February, but who had become conspicuously absent of late. But the person Jesse was most concerned about was Grace Jacobs. She was the lone seventh-grader who regularly ate with them, and almost all her friends were moving up to high school. Jesse and Leslie tried to cheer her up, promising to include her in events whenever possible, but they all knew that a wide social gulf existed between eighth and ninth grade. The next year would be hard on her.

Jesse made a special effort to include Grace in their lunchtime conversations, and Leslie had her sleep over so they could have privacy and time for 'girl talk.' While these attempts to cheer her seemed to help in the short term, it was easy to see that the teen was on a slow, downward spiral. As June began, and Leslie needed more time to study for her three high school credit courses, Jesse took it upon himself to jog by the Jacobs' house every weekend and invite Grace to walk along with him for a while. He made a number of lame excuses to explain his desire that she accompany him, but his true purpose was to gage her emotional state, for he was becoming deeply concerned. He had developed, over the two years he had known her, a real affection for the girl: She was sharp, warm, and kind to a fault, all qualities she needed to offset her frequent puritanical outbursts that irritated even Jesse's own conservative nature. And approaching fourteen, she was rightly acknowledged to be one of the prettiest girls in her class, an accolade Jesse had often presented her when she seemed down. Leslie finally asked her if she was down because of her apparent lack of a male friend special to her, but Grace refused to talk about it. This led Leslie to wonder if she had again become interested in Jesse, a complication that _would_ explain her symptoms.

Eventually, Leslie and Jesse decided to speak with the school counselor and let her know of their concerns. The overworked L.C.S.W. promised to find time to speak with Grace and to try to pinpoint what it was that was pulling her down. This was all Jesse and Leslie felt they could do, for now, and they waited to see how Grace responded.

As the official start of the summer season approached, the Keane family extended an invitation to all of their daughter's friends at Lark Creek Elementary for a swimming and cookout party on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. Mr. and Mrs. Keane loved entertaining and used any excuse to have a party; Jen returning from William and Mary and Barb 'graduating' to high school was reason enough. After Barb delivered the news at lunch on the Friday nine days before the event, Jesse drew Leslie, Tom, and Grace aside to ask their opinion. Tom said Jesse was overreacting in his concern, and Leslie agreed, stating they had worked through the uncomfortable issues of the previous summer and should readily accept. Surprisingly, Grace put up no objection and later that day Leslie told Barb that they would all attend.

Over the next week Jesse found himself having second thoughts about being with the four girls whose images, as of yet, he had been unable to completely purge from his mind. Although Tom's questionable activity was more than six months removed, Jesse sometimes had to fight an uneasiness and guilt that tended to pop up in his head at random intervals. Deciding to face the problem instead of letting it simmer annoyingly in his brain, Jesse made sure he was mentally prepared for what promised to be an interesting day.

Jesse need not have worried, however, the Keane's party turned out to be a smashing success and relieved Jesse of any remaining doubts he had about the family's sense of propriety. Even Terri and Madison, the 'problems' from the previous summer, were well behaved, though a little stiff in their manners.

_Probably not used to being undemonstrative_, Jesse speculated humorously.

Having not seen either girl in nine months, Jesse noticed that both had grown physically and he could only hope their common sense and restraint were advancing at a similar rate.

Around mid-afternoon, Jesse was roughhousing with Leslie in the pool while most of the other guests were sunbathing, snacking, or talking. Tom and Mikey were playing doubles tennis with the twins, and Barb and Grace were lounging on the deck, heads close together, and looking mischievous. But Jesse was too distracted by Leslie to notice much of anything else. Her swimsuit from the previous summer was now a bit snug in some sensitive spots and it was driving him crazy whenever she slipped a finger into the area to stretch the elastic out. He recalled Barb doing the same thing ten months earlier, and how it had made him feel so guilty; but that fading guilt was being helped along every time he picked Leslie up and threw her in the water while she laughed and sputtered veiled threats if he dared do it again. He also noticed that Barb's behavior to all the boys present was the same, just as she had told Leslie. It was a _little_ too friendly, Jesse thought, but he had to respect her more now that he knew she had been honest with Leslie.

Another new experience Jesse quickly learned to enjoy was flirting with his girlfriend in the pool. Wearing only the obligatory swimming attire, it was far more _exciting_ than necking in the woods or on the porch. Aside from the obvious sources of visual and tactile stimulation their interactions created, he noticed a totally unexpected one coming from his brain. He was finally able to identify it when he picked Leslie up to dunk her. Instead of her laying passively and holding her nose in anticipation of the imminent dousing, she rolled over in his arms, threw hers around his neck, and started kissing him, openly ignoring their friend's poorly disguised interest. Though everyone present knew Jesse and Leslie were a couple as well as best friends, they seldom showed much outward affection at school, apart from holding hands occasionally, and not much more when away from school and among their friends. Both thought it ostentatious, bordering on rude, to display their affection in public.

Something in both adolescents, but most strongly in Jesse, clicked (or snapped) that day in the Keane's pool, and they found themselves experiencing another level of intimacy, wholly new and intensely powerful. Unfortunately, Jesse's new comfort level with being affectionate to his girlfriend in public began to backfire. He soon had to set Leslie down, back away, and surrender to the inescapable result all boys his age face under similar circumstances. Blushing, he smiled awkwardly at Leslie and turned to let his body cool down. Leslie smiled back, but not in an embarrassingly knowing manner, rather as a friend, and swam to the side of the pool to wait for Jesse to return to her. It took a little longer than either expected.

Towards the end of the day, Jesse and Leslie were on the tennis court perfecting their skills at hitting the balls over the fence when Tom Jacobs approached. He was a little red in the face from what initially was thought to be sunburn, and came up asking to talk with both his friends. He explained that he had 'accidentally' come across a piece of trivia he thought explained Manning's and Fulcher's strange insistence in calling Leslie _Heather_. Jesse had forgotten that odd aspect of the two delinquents, but Leslie had not, and before hearing the reason, she asked Tom if it had anything to do with smut. Surprised at the insight, he acknowledged that some people might classify it as such, but tempered his own opinion with the information he subsequently provided.

"I was looking up stuff on the internet the other day and came across an article about the original cast of _The Sound of Music_, the movie, not the Broadway show. The girl who played the same part you did, Louisa, well, _her_ name was _Heather_. I dug a little further on the Movie Database and it mentioned that this Heather person had posed, uh, you know, in Playboy. That's a magazine…"

"We know what it is, Tom," Jesse cut in, his temper rising.

"Oh, ok. Well, I think that might be what they were referring to. How about you two?"

Leslie gave Jesse a quick, sly glance and asked, "Was this Heather person cute, in the magazine, I mean?"

"_Yeah!_ She was… Shit, sorry, Les," said Tom repentantly, covering his face.

Leslie loved teasing and couldn't resist the opportunity she'd been given, but Jesse looked ready to renew the feud. He was soon convinced by his girlfriend, however, that Tom had meant no harm and she had taken no offense, so Jesse let the matter drop.

- - - - - - - - - - -

From Memorial Day to the end of exams was less than three weeks, and the time seemed to drag on interminably, as if Mother Nature herself wasn't interested in starting the summer holidays. But for two fourteen year olds, very much in love and deeply engrossed in the process of learning about their friend and themselves, it felt like mere seconds. The Lark Creek Elementary School advancement ceremony was held on the evening before the final day of school for all the rising ninth-graders. As expected, Jesse was presented with his fifth award in art, and his first in two other subjects. Leslie had delighted her parents by passing all her high school credit classes and finishing first in many of her others, but both Jesse and Leslie failed to achieve top marks overall even though they had been battling back and forth for the top spot all year. In Leslie's case, it was due to her suspension and the mandatory demerits affixed to her final grades. Jesse's shorter suspension was of less consequence, but he really did not care. For the first time in his life he was looking forward to _starting_ school in the fall. But before the new school year began, ten weeks of summer vacation faced the Aarons and Burke families. They would be busy and exciting, and include a return to Duck for two weeks in August.

About the only negative turn of events that June was unsurprising declaration of war by the United States against the Republic of Iran, and the social and political fallout it generated. After nearly two years of listening to the United Nations debate about who had planted the fizzled nuclear bomb in Washington, and how they should be 'disciplined,' the President, against the advice of her closest advisors, (and some say her husband), took the extraordinary step of proposing the declaration at a joint session of congress. With the concrete evidence obtained from the relentless pursuit of the guilty nation, there was never much doubt about the who and why. So, as in 1941, the day after the speech, congress adopted the formal declaration of war and the sides began to line up. Just how far it would spread was anyone's guess, for Iran immediately declared Holy War, _Jihad_, against the United States, fallaciously calling the war a war against Islam. Fortunately, the U.S. was assisted in refuting this claim by Iran itself, for its ultra-radical president's rants and ravings presented to the world the face of an fanatical and dangerous man atop an unstable regime with access to nuclear weapons. And he had proven a willingness to use them. So like Iraq in the earlier part of the decade, they had to be squashed, even at the cost of war.

Washington was hoping for a quick decapitation of the Iranian government so they could have their military resources prepared should the new Pakistani government decide to renounce its treaties with the U.S., but only time would tell. The most immediate affect the war had on Jesse's family was Ellie's boyfriend enlisting in the army. Ellie sank into a severe depression, nearly as bad as Brenda's the previous year, which took most of the summer for her to shake. The family computer became nearly unusable as the oldest Aarons daughter would constantly check for email from Toby, and run off crying for joy when she received something. Fortunately, as the weeks went by, the insanity subsided to mere panic, and that was the usual state of things in the house anyway.

- - - - - - - - - - -

On the evening of their last day at Lark Creek Elementary School, Jesse and Leslie went walking to talk again about the summer. Jesse's mind, however, had more mundane things to think about.

"Four more years, Les, then four more in college. That stinks."

"Ok quit being the pessimist. We have ten weeks off and I have everything planned for the summer."

"Yeah? I haven't even started a list."

"Jess, I meant I have everything planned for both of us," Leslie said exasperatedly.

"I should have known," he laughed. "What's top on the list?"

Lying on the cool grass along side creek, Leslie rolled over onto her stomach and kissed Jesse. "That's number one."

Jesse smiled. "Ok, I guess I can handle that. What's the next one?"

"We have to find that other place was Mr. Boone was going to tell us about."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that! Ok, what's number three?"

Leslie kissed him again and Jesse nodded approvingly.

"Ok, that's three, what's four?"

Leslie smiled brightly. "Isn't that enough?"

"No…YES! I meant what's next on your list?"

"Oh, this and that. It'll be a surprise."

"No hints?"

Leslie sighed and her smile faded. "Yeah, we need to find out what's wrong with Gracie."

"She seemed a lot better at the Keane's."

"That was three weeks ago, you bone-head. Haven't you noticed her at lunch since then? Did you see her at graduation?"

Jesse shook his head cautiously.

"She cried through the entire thing, and ran out before it was over. She won't return my calls and…Jess, I _really_ am worried."

"No idea what's causing it?"

"I have a couple…and both involve you," Leslie admitted glumly.

Jesse bolted upright, nearly sending his girlfriend rolling down the embankment. "I thought she was all over me."

"Apparently not. I talked to Barb some and she agrees. Oh, and by the way, Barb informed me she has first dibs on you if I leave or we split up or…_oh, I'm sorry, Jess."_

"That's not funny. _Did_ _she really say that about me?_"

Leslie laughed aloud and threw herself on Jesse, pushing him back to the ground. "No, my love, she didn't."

Jesse started, Leslie had never called him that before. He liked it, kissed Leslie, and then sat back up. "Think I should talk to Grace?"

"I don't know, Jess. Maybe it's because of her not having a mother around to talk to. Besides, I think you talking with her is what started all this up again."

"_Huh?_"

"Back in May, when she started sulking about being alone next year? You were always the first to rescue her, or talk to her, or jog over to the Jacobs' place and take her for walks when I needed to study. I guess she just fell for the great guy I already knew you are."

"Sorry."

"Why? You were just being yourself. Grace is still too young…"

"Les, she's only a few months younger than me."

"I meant emotionally. Evan is the only boy she's spent any time with and that's long over. She liked Mikey but, well, he's practically glued to Lisa…or is it Carol?"

Both laughed.

"Maybe we should talk to Mr. Jacobs," Jesse suggested.

"Maybe," Leslie allowed, frowning. "But she might need to talk to a woman if this is all because of you."

"Hey!"

Leslie looked Jesse in the eyes lovingly. "Kiss me?"

"Ok." He did.

"Not so reluctant anymore, are you?"

Blushing, smiling, Jesse shook his head and kissed her again.

"Jess?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you still love me?"

"_What?! _Of course I do."

"I…I hope this never ends," Leslie said softly, snuggling up to the boy she had loved almost from the time they met.

Jesse put his arms around her and held on tightly, thinking back to a time and place not far from where they now sat. It was the best and worst day of his life, seeing Leslie almost dead and then being able to breathe life back into her. _How different my life might have been_, Jesse considered, then shuddered with the distant memory of how his alter Jesse had suffered for eighteen years with morbid regret. Leslie looked up questioningly, but Jesse returned his most reassuring smile.

"I hope so, too, Leslie," he said simply, using her full Christian name for the first time in years. "Life wouldn't be the same without you."

"But Jess, if something, someday, somewhere, should happen to us…to you and me…"

Jesse Aarons cut Leslie Burke off with a long, gentle, and expertly aimed kiss, never letting her finish the comment. When they broke apart, their eyes met and exchanged the same thought: _Nothing will ever happen to us._

END of PART 4

_A/N: Please see my comments about the future of this story at my web site listed under my profile._


	36. Part 4: The Brink

**A Life Rescued  
Chapter 37 – The Brink  
**(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_As promised, here is __the one-shot based on A Life Rescued, dealing with Jesse and Leslie's first small step into the world of sexual awareness. This one-shot has a T rating, but if you think you might be offended (or confused) by my descriptions of mildly sensual activity between two fourteen year olds then do not proceed. Having said that, this story really isn't very explicit, but if you feel it's too racy, let me know and I may either change the questionable section or up the rating._

_The events in this story take place a few days after the end of chapter 35, but prior knowledge of the story is not essential. __Enjoy. S._

- - - - - - - - - - -

The flurry of activity that marked the end of eighth grade had just subsided when Jesse Aarons found that Leslie Burke was ready and eager to start working on the first item of her list of summer projects. But over the past few days, since their talk by the creek, Jesse had seen little of his girlfriend as she helped her mother prepare their house for the arrival of her twin cousins from Arlington.

This unexpected delay in Leslie's professed first objective for the summer provided time for Jesse's imagination to run a bit wild with ideas about how she planned to improve their lip-to-lip communications. It wasn't that he didn't have _any_ ideas about how to advance their style and form; he had seen and heard plenty from Mikey and Tom. More than he wanted to, in fact. Jesse also hoped to build on his experience from the previous summer, when he discovered that kissing Leslie behind her ear, particularly on her scar, caused her to make some of the noises he was learning to associate with pleasure. He smiled recalling his mother's panic at what she had called his _unintentional intimacy_. That was one area he was more than happy to attempt to recreate.

_Then there was the tongue__ thing._ Jesse had seen enough of Ellie and Toby before he shipped off to boot camp to realize that swapping saliva could not be _completely_ disagreeable. Leslie's few, tentative, and long-past touches of her tongue to his lips reminded him of their first conversations about French Kissing. Now, a year later, the idea was nowhere near as revolting. He resolved to take more of the initiative at their next opportunity.

Muddled among these two distinctly adolescent goals were other more provocative ones, like those that flashed into his mind when he thought about the Keane sisters in Tom's camera, or Leslie in her ill-fitting bathing suit, or even the time when he thought he would have the opportunity to see Grace Jacobs' occupied undergarments. He shivered while trying to determine the appropriate balance between what he wanted and what he might be allowed to achieve.

Of course, there was the other side of the coin to consider, too. What would _he_ allow _Leslie_ to do to him…with him? Kissing, sure. And he loved the way her arms around his neck calmed him. When their cheeks touched, or their noses, it felt like jolts of electricity. All these things, Jesse believed, were both proper and normal. The concept of complete sexual intimacy, on the other hand, was so absolutely removed from his conscious thoughts that he didn't even bother to waste time considering ways to avoid it. Unfortunately, like most adolescents, and nearly all adolescent boys, he was blissfully unaware of the fact that once the match was 'put to the fuse' it was a very brief time until the explosion.

For her part, Leslie faced a deeper dilemma, and a heavier responsibility. For over a year, she had been paying attention to how her body reacted to various stimuli and recognized that she had run up against a brick wall. It was not that Jesse's kisses didn't make her feel wonderful, they _always_ did. But kissing and holding hands and hugging had been the extent of their physical interaction, until the party at the Keane's house in late May. There, for the first time, Leslie began to understand how much of a physical reaction she could bring forth from her boyfriend. Jesse's embarrassed turn-away after some kisses had probably stunned her as much as him. And when she thought back on other times when she and Jesse had been necking or hugging for extended periods, she began to recall the odd shifts in position he initiated; now she understood why. She smiled to herself. There were still many things she didn't comprehend about boy-girl relationship, but discovering part of the secret of this one was oddly satisfying.

Fortunately, the deep friendship the two adolescents shared gave Leslie enough respect for Jesse's feelings that she never really considered intentionally making that happen to him. However, even though she was up to speed on her F.L.E. studies, Leslie still had not come to realize that she did not have to _intentionally_ do _anything_ to or with Jesse to set him off. She would learn that over time.

With her chores finally complete Monday evening, Leslie called and proposed to Jesse that they hike up into the mountains Tuesday, and spend some time at the canyon behind their late friend's cabin. She suggested bringing their bathing suits so they could cool off in the pool as the weather had turned hot and humid. Jesse agreed and the stage was set for the most interesting day of their lives.

- - - - - - - - - - -

On Tuesday morning, deep inside both adolescents, there was a vague realization that they were setting off for far more than a simple hike. There was a playful atmosphere with their every step, a tingling when they held hands, a deeper blush, a quicker step, and an all-around sense of discovery. Little conversation passed between the two, and this was highly unusual. But many long looks and warm smiles seemed to communicate the desire for an intimacy in more than just mind and spirit.

Both found that by the time they had reached the abandoned cabin their breathing and heart rates were elevated more than would normally be expected. When they reached the head of the canyon, both began to realize that it was the other, not the hike, which was bringing on the excitement. They were alone, probably for miles, and both intensely interested in exploring more than the terrain. These suspicions were confirmed in Jesse when he set his backpack down and stood back up to find Leslie's red face inches from his. In a second she was kissing him, and he was returning them eagerly.

A few minutes later, and not knowing exactly how it happened, Jesse found himself on his back and his girlfriend lying atop him, kissing his mouth even more fervently. He believed, at first, that he could not possibly respond as intensely as she could, but he did. He felt a wave of guilt and confusion over being so expressive on Mr. Boone's land, but it seemed to make him want to kiss Leslie more, and he recalled what his father had once told him about strong emotions flaring into passion. He instantly knew that was what was happening.

Rolling to his side, so Leslie was next to him, Jesse felt his heart beating wildly and his breathing quickening. There was something uncommonly intense about Leslie's actions, and he had never felt it before.

_Is she losing control?_

_Am I?_

The conflicting and confusing thoughts passing through Jesse's mind were being rapidly pushed aside by his own plunge into the stimulating world of Leslie Burke and Jesse Aarons, alone, together. The images whirling around in his head were both unnerving and intriguing, and emboldened by the wild desire to satisfy his own appetite, for the first time in his life, Jesse Aarons let himself go. It wasn't so much a conscious decision as a concession to curiosity; an abandonment to arousal.

Unsure of where to begin, he pulled his flushed and wide-eyed girlfriend closer. The feel of her body against his was electrifying. Leslie wrapped one leg around him and helped strengthen the physical bond they were building. Gently brushing aside the golden hair that was partially hiding her face, he saw the same curiosity, the same interest, the same passion in Leslie's face as he felt in his chest.

Their kips met again, but lightly this time, as if testing a cup of hot tea. Jesse could taste the strawberry lip balm Leslie always wore. And just as clumsily as he had the first time he kissed her, he opened his mouth a little wider and touched her lips with his tongue, briefly tasting them.

When Leslie's eyes shot open in astonishment, Jesse pulled back, worried he'd done something too bold.

"Sorry…I…I just…"

"_No, Jess_," Leslie whispered passionately, "I _liked_ it. It sort of made me shiver."

Jesse nodded in agreement, though it was doing much more to him than making him shiver. He did it again, barely touching her, and could feel Leslie's lips form a smile.

"Jess?"

"Hmm?"

"I really do like it."

Noticing his hands shaking, Jesse latched them more tightly on Leslie's back and neck, moving her in closer so he wouldn't have to lean so much for the next kiss. That kiss unfolded like no other. Both kids' parted lips met, teeth tapped, and then the tip of each tongue. It was just a glancing touch, but it was so unlike anything either had expected that they sprang apart again, Leslie, wide-eyed, her wet lips glistening in the sun. Jesse wondering how something so brief and small could produced such a reaction.

"Wow!" whispered Leslie, her enthusiasm not at all diminished by her hushed voice. "I see why Mom didn't want me to listen to Aunt Joan."

Jesse ignored this and kissed her again, and more boldly.

Leslie giggled. "Jesse Aarons, are you enjoying this?" Her rhetorical question was answered with another kiss. Now it was her turn to eagerly respond.

Time passed with the kids exploring each other like never before, discovering the magic of opening up a new part of their relationship. Both were amazed by the myriad of sensations their lips and tongues could evoke, and slipping into the fog of sexual arousal – a first for both. They had suddenly come face-to-face with the question both had considered recently: _What happens next?_ Leslie had a vague idea of what she wanted from Jesse, and she tried to maneuver her body back on top of his where she could experience the warmth of his chest pressed against hers. Pushing herself up on one arm and leg, while trying to kiss was awkward, but she was able, after a couple aborted attempts, to find a comfortable position.

Then she noticed a subtle change in Jesse, and felt something she knew she should have been more careful about.

Jesse had been able to write-off his interest in their more intimate kissing, and him touching his girlfriend in different places, to typical adolescent curiosity, but it was now no longer a matter of curiosity. The physical closeness of their bodies and the uncontrollable _whatever it was_ building inside him seemed to be taking over his actions and he found that his hands were no longer content to touch Leslie's face, neck, and back. He slipped one hand under the bottom of her tank-top and felt the soft skin of her lower back made damp by their vigorous hike, and he heard her inhale sharply when his finger circled a spot directly over her spine, along the top edge of her shorts.

Then, when Leslie moved on top of him, he found his desire to touch more than her back was almost mind numbing. Jesse's hand moved to her waist, just below her ribs, then inwards to her stomach, and then upward. Based on her squirming, Jesse wondered if his hands were tickling. He gently separated their bodies to have easier access to the front of Leslie's body.

But Leslie _wasn't_ laughing. When she felt Jess's hand on her bare stomach, she stopped breathing for a few seconds and felt another shiver wrack her upper body. "Jess…?" she said quietly, though more from the thrill of what he was doing than concern, but Jesse kept kissing her face and his hand kept moving between them. She was pretty sure she knew its destination, but as the hand inched up, an image of Gary Fulcher came to her mind, and what he had been doing that had made her attack him.

_Would Jess…? Because __of me…? Because of what we're doing?_

The distraction generated by this thought was met head-on by the shock of feeling Jesse's hand brush against her breast. Leslie gasped aloud from a combination of shock and the intense sensation his touch brought out. It was not at all unpleasant, quite the opposite, but the warning alarms were already sounding and she knew what she had to do. Leslie rolled over to see a dazed look on Jesse's face, his hand that had seconds ago been touching her so intimately was drawn back; its owner shifted his gaze from her face.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod…Les, I'm…I'm sorry. I can't believe I did that."

Predictably, Jesse started hyperventilating and it took Leslie a minute to convince her boyfriend that everything was ok, though she wondered if it was possible to be convincing when she herself was not so certain.

"Jess, _Jess, shhh_, really, it's ok, we just got carried away. It wasn't just you…"

Before her eyes, Leslie watched as Jesse began to shrink back into the shell he'd grown out of years before, and she mentally kicked herself for letting things get so carried away.

"Jess, _stop that_. Look at me. You did _nothing_ wrong…"

"_Yes, I did!_ I'm sorry. Are you ok, Les?"

She nodded shakily. Then Jesse, looking relieved, began to disentangle himself. When free, he jumped up and started to turn away, embarrassed seeing that his uncontrollable reaction to their intimacy was plainly visible to Leslie.

Leslie herself automatically looked away. She had felt him earlier against her leg, but forgotten about it when Jesse's hand started touching her. She tried to ease his discomfiture. "Oh, come on, Jess, I took F.L.E.'s too, that's normal."

"Yeah? Easy for you to say," Jesse responded, leaning over, hands on his knees, and still a little panicky. "Girls can hide it a lot better than guys."

Leslie had to smile at the truth of the statement.

"Ok, just wait until it's… I mean, come back when you're ready."

Leslie's fumbled words put Jesse at ease a little quicker and a couple minutes later, having tucked his shirt back in and run his hands through his hair, Jesse returned and sat with Leslie, though a little further away than she liked. When he stubbornly refused to move closer, Leslie scooted over, put her arms around his neck, and gently pulled him to her shoulder. The heat from his flushed-red face was unusually warm and gave Leslie a deeper sense of affection for her best friend.

"Jess, it was ok. I don't want you to get all grumpy because you thought you were sinning or taking advantage of me. I'm serious: this wasn't your fault. I…I think I've felt it building for a long time, at least inside me. By the way, you're a great kisser, do you know that?"

Jesse shook his head.

"Jess, _look up at me, Jess!_ I had a great time."

"But I…._touched_ you!"

"I noticed. Do you hear me complaining?"

Jesse didn't seem to appreciate Leslie's dry humor at first, but a small smile eventually returned to his face.

"C'mon, Jess. We'll be more careful not to get carried away, ok?" Leslie hugged him. "Look at it this way, you got a late birthday present."

Jesse gave Leslie a _who are you kidding?_ look, but seemed to be calm enough to talk to logically again.

"I think we need to be getting home now," he announced abruptly. "Seriously, Les. I don't know if my seeing you in that bathing suit right now would be a good idea."

"Ok, Jess, but don't you think we need to talk about what happened some more?"

"Well…yeah. I mean…ok, I don't know, it just scared me."

"Me, too, but I'm not going to let it make me miserable. It's not like it will happen every time we kiss, right?"

"I, um, I guess not."

"So there," Leslie proclaimed.

"Wait!"

"Now what?" asked Leslie a little impatiently.

"I think we should test that."

"Huh? Test what?"

Smiling deviously, Jesse touched his lips and they both leaned over and kissed as they had just discovered how to do so sensuously an hour earlier.

"God that's amazing!" Leslie only nodded in reply. When they broke farther apart, Jesse felt better seeing Leslie more affected by the kiss.

"Ok, you're right, Jess," Leslie breathed heavily. "Let's agree to be more careful." Putting a hand to the side of his face, Leslie cupped his cheek and had to fight off a craving to take her boyfriend's hand and place it back on her chest. _Not_ doing so left an ache inside her she had never felt before.

Leslie recalled Jesse's words from their days on the Mediterranean nearly two years earlier, and he was right_…this can get us into trouble! _

When Leslie returned home, she ducked into the kitchen and said hello to her mother. Judy, covered with the remnants of Jimmy's oatmeal lunch, smiled and asked how her day went with Jesse, silently noticing that they were home a lot sooner than she expected. Leslie had never quite figured out how her mother was able to do it, but in spite of the casual _we had a great time_ response, Leslie knew her mother knew. The question was, _How much?_

"Come in, Les. Let's talk."

"Mom, I really need to shower and, uh, get going on my homework…"

"Too bad," she said, a little more sternly. "Sit! And in case you didn't notice, school ended four days ago."

Leslie groaned and sat.

"Is there something we need to talk about?"

"No…not really," Leslie lied. Turning away, she saw Jimmy watching her as if he knew and wanted to hear every juicy detail. She sighed. "Well, just a little."

"Les, you really don't have to tell me anything if it makes you uncomfortable. But when you came in your eyes were as big as billiard balls and you were blushing down to your knees."

"That obvious, huh?"

Judy smiled and nodded.

"Les, you're my daughter, you're fourteen and a half, and you and your boyfriend are pretty much madly in love. When I think back to myself…"

"_Mother! I'm not you. We've had this discussion and I wouldn't do that with Jess._"

Jimmy threw more oatmeal into the air and blurted out, "_Wiff Jeh'!_"

Judy held her daughter's gaze and clearly saw that what she should have said was, _I wouldn't _intentionally_ do that with Jess_, or, _I wouldn't _plan_ to do that with Jess_.

"You're right, Les, you are _not_ me, I wasn't implying that. I was trying to say that you're at an age where your body can easily help you lose control. It's that other side of PMS we talked about. And believe me; if Jess is anything like your father, he has a lot less control than you do." By the look on her daughter's face, Judy knew she had hit pretty close to home. But the real question was, how close to _home_ did _Jesse_ get?

"Sweetheart, what happened?"

Leslie told her about their oral exploration, and then the other part. Judy Burke was quite proud that she was able to listen dispassionately to her daughter's first foray into the fringes of sexual activity. When finished, her mother touched her cheek.

"Was this the first time this happened?" Leslie nodded. Judy smiled. "Did Jess…ah, survive?"

Leslie laughed at the choice of words. "Yes, a little embarrassed because of…of, you know…a guy's reaction."

"Not unexpected, considering what he was doing. Leslie, is that were the touching ended?"

"_Yes!_ I think Jesse would have been horrified if…I mean, he was so embarrassed as it was."

Judy thought that comment over for a minute and asked for clarification. "Les, Jesse didn't, _ahem_, have an…_accident_, did he?"

"_Huh? OH!_ No, I think I would have noticed that."

"Ok, because it's pretty easy at his age. Just be careful how you, ah, _position_ yourself if things get hot and heavy again."

"Don't worry, Mom, I promise, that's never going to happen again."

Judy laughed aloud and assured her daughter that it would, and offered some strategies for keeping things from progressing any further.

"Mom, I have another question," Leslie said quietly, looking down, obviously concerned about something. "Does what we did always feel that good?"

"Les, I think that's enough talk about sex tonight," Judy said, smiling. Besides, Jimmy was now bored with the conversation and threatening further food mayhem. But there was still another very important thing she needed to say. Taking her daughter's hands, Judy spoke calmly, and directly. "Les, I won't ask any more questions about you and Jess, but I'll always be here for you. I think you know Bill and I believe you're too young to be active that way, but I also know things are going to happen. So does Mary Aarons; we've talked about it a lot." Leslie's face looked horror-struck. "Honey, we know you two love each other, but you're still children, really, so we need to agree on some limits since you've pretty much obliterated the last one's we set."

"Sorry."

As Judy and Leslie talked about the new set of guidelines, she saw her daughter becoming more and more uncomfortable so she ended it for the time being with one final, shocking statement.

"Les, I'm going to leave some contraceptives in the bottom drawer of your bathroom vanity, and I promise not to look to see if they're being used. Ok."

Stunned, almost as much by her mother's comment as Jesse's boldness earlier, all Leslie could manage to do was nod.

"That doesn't mean I approve of sex at your age, I don't, or that I want you to look for opportunities, understood?"

Leslie shook her head in a rapid, jerking motion. And she felt a little sick to her stomach.

"Mom, I don't want that…them. I don't _need_ them."

"Well, they're not so much for you to use as for Jess…"

"_MOM!_"

"…only if needed, Les."

"But…but Jess says the Church says they're illegal!"

Judy frowned at being reminded of one of the key points of contention between her and the Catholic Church. "Yes they do consider it sinful, that's another thing for you to think about. What are their alternatives to birth control?"

"Abstinence and natural family planning."

"Ok, then, there's your choice," Judy said matter-of-factly, and immensely curious how her daughter would respond.

"Abstinence it is," Leslie said decidedly, and with no hesitation. Her conviction and naiveté both surprised and alarmed her mother.

"Ok, go shower and do your…_homework_, I have to finish dinner. Is Jess coming over?"

_I'm not sure I could face him!_

"No, he's going into town with his father."

Leslie decided then and there to remove anything from the bathroom that looked remotely like contraceptives, and hide them in her room. But she didn't leave, yet.

"Mom, I have one more quick question."

Judy sat back down and waited, wondering if she was about to hear more details from Leslie's adventures that afternoon. She didn't.

"When did you know you wanted to spend your life with Dad? You know, get married?"

"_Oh_, uh…" Judy, caught completely by surprise, stalled for time while she thought back so many years. To her credit, she answered the question truthfully.

"When I was about your age…but remember what I was going through..."

The reason didn't matter a jot to Leslie, her question had been answered.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Leslie walked to the Aarons house that evening shortly after seeing Jesse return home, and asked to speak to him. Mr. Aarons said he was in his room and she could go up, but Leslie politely asked that he be called down. He nodded and did so. When Jesse came down the stairs and saw Leslie he hesitated for just a second; Jack Aarons saw it, though he said nothing at the time.

"Hey! What's up?"

"Wanna go for a walk?"

Jesse nodded and jogged across the room, taking Leslie's hand as they went outside. Heading towards her house, Leslie started the conversation after a half-minute of awkward silence.

"Jess, are you ok with what happened today?"

_NO!_ He just shrugged.

"We're too young for this, Jess, so let's not get in the habit of you…me…uh, us…you know. Is that ok?"

Jesse had to laugh. Leslie was almost never tongue-tied, as she was now. "You mean I can't feel you up every time we're alone?"

Leslie slapped his arm, but then stopped and said honestly, "Neither of us is ready, Jess, I'm sorry I let you get that far."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Ok." Then he thought of something. "Um, how about kissing…like today?" he asked, arching his eyebrows suggestively.

Leslie considered that for a few seconds. "Can't say I'm ready to give that up. But promise me, we'll be careful, both of us, right?"

"Ok, I promise," answered Jesse, hugging Leslie, but also releasing her after only a few seconds. The reminder of how he was so consistently and easily aroused by her troubled his thoughts.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Late that same evening, Judy Burke showered and climbed in bed. Bill was pounding away on his laptop and barely acknowledged his wife. This was one of his character flaws that annoyed her excessively. But his uncanny ability to tune out everything he didn't want to hear usually led to interesting conversations.

"Bill?"

"Hmm?"

"Our daughter is sexually active now."

"Ok."

"Her and Jess have been for a while."

"Yeah…I know."

"I gave her a box of your condoms."

"Good idea, Jude."

"But I didn't need to."

"Yeah."

"Les is pregnant."

"Ok."

"So am I."

"Mm-hm."

"So is Mary Aarons."

"Good plan."

"And Ellie and Brenda."

"Sounds good to me."

"_Want to have sex?_"

Bill instantly looked up, smiling wickedly. "When have I ever said 'no' to that?"

"Never, that I can remember," Judy replied dryly. "But you'll have to put your computer down."

"Yeah…right, just a sec…let me finish this thought…"

Five minutes later, Judy groaned and started over, this time a bit more vicious in her comments.

"Billy?"

"Hm?"

"I'm bi-sexual."

"Ok."

"And P.T.'s beginning to turn me on."

"Cool."

"And I'm going to punch your jewels if you don't start screwing me."

"Sure."

"_BILL!_"

"Hm…what, Jude?"

Judy seriously considered acting upon her threat, but instead took her nightgown off, straddled Bill's lower legs and slammed the laptop shut on his hands, finally gaining her husband's undivided attention.

"Hi. My name is Judy Burke. I'm your wife. I want you to make love to me. _NOW!_"

"_Ok, ok! _Why didn't you say so?"

Feeling a little deflated, Judy fell over sideways and wondered why she had married a writer.

The End


	37. Intermission

**A Life Rescued  
Extended Author's Notes**

This originally marked the end of ALR, but as you can see, I have added more chapters. I kept the information below as reference.

**Why **_**A Life Rescued?**_  
I never read the _Bridge to Terabithia_ book, and this was probably good, for I would never have watched the movie. As it happened, my daughter, who had read the book in fifth grade, spoiled the movie I was watching at home one day by saying, "Isn't this the story where the girl dies?" or something similar. _Arggggg!_ _I didn't know that was going to happen! _The movie sent me into a deep depression that took me two weeks to shake. _A Life Rescued_ was part of my process of recovery.

**Mistakes:**  
I obviously made at least two dumb mistakes in researching the background of the story. First, the names of the Aarons family. The second, a bit less critical, the age of many of the characters. It took me about 23 chapters to remedy the names. I have started editing the first 22 chapters to fix those errors. The ages are not so critical, though I have been told that they are not quite in line with the book.

Spelling, punctuation, grammar mistakes? Many. I do not use a proofreader, I have never had a very good experience with them, so I just read and re-read until I stop seeing mistakes. Obviously, this is not the best way to do things, but it's my way, for now.

Sci-Fi vs. straight Fiction: I should not have used the time-travel theme. When I had to resolve it at the end of part 3, it took some doing to find a vehicle that worked. So getting out of it was a little weak, but I enjoyed writing about the DID/MPD mental issues. I should have written it that way from the start, and am correcting that as I revise.

Leslie's lack of character development: A somewhat justified complaint. I did pay more attention to Jesse's character than Leslie's.

**Things I was told I should not include, but did anyway:**  
Religion: I included this because I wanted my younger readers to understand the role of Religion and Faith in their lives and in developing healthy moral values. As you saw in the last couple chapters, even though Leslie was interested in learning about Jesse's faith, she had a lot of questions, and is bold enough to ask the hard ones. In addition, Jesse, having relied heavily on his Catholic faith for moral direction, is now facing some difficult choice as he feels the full force of adolescence weighing down upon him.

The sexual tension/allusions to sexual activity: This is a sticky topic: some people think Jesse is perverted, or Tom is perverted, or I am perverted; others tell me I have described the passions accurately. Take your pick. I will add that the main reason I got rid of the future Jesse/time travel plot was because any appearance or perception of an older male interacting with young female raises all sorts of red flags. I didn't want to deal with that. But in the end, we are all sexual beings, and much of our adolescence was spent (or is being spent) learning how to be a boy or girl, a man or woman. Sexuality is not just sex; it is a basic characteristic of our very being: male and female. Could the story have been written without all the narrative describing Jesse and Leslie's thoughts about intimacy? Certainly, but it would have been a lot more boring and less realistic, IMHO.

The terrorist bomb & war: I gave these events minor parts in the story because I did not want Lark Creek to exist in a vacuum. In addition, I had planned on using them more in later parts of the story, if written. The most obvious is with Ellie's boyfriend, Toby, going off to war.

Jackie Roller/JK Rowling: She stays, but I should have used Roller from the start. The 'far-fetched' sub-plot of Jesse's art lessons being financed by the wealthy woman is not far-fetched at all. I personally know of a similar arrangement with a girl in my daughter's dance school.

Mr. Boone: He stays, kind of taking the place of Jesse and Leslie's grandparents.

Joan & Brian, Judy Burke's sister and brother-in-law: They stay, and are not major roles anyway. And Joan's role in influencing Leslie is important.

There were a few other comments about leaving out 'boring' or 'irrelevant' sub-plots, but these were the most often mentioned.

**Things I was told I should have included, but did not:**  
Well, the most obvious one is Terabithia itself. To me, Terabithia was made irrelevant by a few things that evolved in my story. First, Jesse and Leslie had learned how to face their problems. Second, the change Jack and Mary Aarons' go through when Leslie almost dies and Jesse is hurt, and how that begins to heal the rift between father and son. Third, Jesse and Leslie had found other 'worlds' to explore, and in which to improve their lives. (Boone's land, their widening circle of friends, academics, sports, art, their own growing friendship/love, et cetera.)

"Ms. Edmonds…where is she?" Alive and well, now married to Mr. Thomas, Jess & Leslie's fifth grade math teacher.

**Grace Jacobs:**  
Many of you have expressed an interest in knowing what happens to Grace, especially in light of her condition late in the story. Grace is my favorite original character and would have/might still, play a major role in the future. If I ultimately decide to not write any more in this story I'll post a, _Whatever Happened To…_ chapter for you.

**Regrets:**  
There is one aspect of this story that I deeply regret, not from using the sub-plot, but in using a real person's name: The sub-plot with 'Heather.' Heather Menzies played the part of Louisa von Trapp in the famous 1965 movie with Julie Andrews and later posed, one time, for an 'adult' magazine. (Yes, in the nude.) I suspect, however, based on the work she has become involved with over the past thirty years, that she might not look happily upon that youthful decision; I should have given her the benefit of the doubt and used another name, as I did with Rowling/Roller. That will be changed as I revise the story.

By the way, Heather Menzies married actor Robert Urich in 1975 and adopted three children. She still takes part in SOM cast reunions and is close friends with many of the former von Trapp children. She currently owns and runs a production studio with Angela Cartwright, another SOM cast member, and is active in various foundations for cancer research. (She survived ovarian cancer, but her husband died of synovial cell sarcoma in 2002.)

Thank you for reading.

IHateSnakes  
Tuesday, February 12, 2008  
Fairfax, Virginia


	38. Part 5: The Separation

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 38 – The Separation**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

On the first Tuesday of summer vacation, Jesse Aarons _thought_ his summer could not have started off better.

Two days later, he _knew_ it could not have started off worse.

It began Thursday morning as he and Leslie were returning from their morning run. The oppressive morning humidity, and uncommon lack of a breeze so typical in the mountains, combined to wear the two out early, just as it had done on the beach in Duck the previous summer. Fortunately, both had learned their lesson and now carried plenty of water to avoid dehydration. Walking the final half-mile to cool off, they met Leslie's mother stepping briskly from the direction of Jesse's house. As they approached, it was clear something was wrong, she acknowledged Jesse but told Leslie to go inside immediately. When she hesitated, Judy Burke snapped at her daughter and Leslie had time for only a quick squeeze of her boyfriend's hand before being dragged inside. Jesse watched, concerned, as they disappeared into the house. He paused for a few seconds, shrugged, and jogged the last few hundred yards home. Had he remained in front of the Burke's house a half minute longer he might have found out what was going to happen, but it would not have changed events measurably. Jesse went looking for his mother when he got home but saw only Joyce Ann and Brian; he decided to shower and wait for Leslie to call.

A hundred yards behind the house, concealed from view by the pine, birch, and wild dogwood trees, Mary Aarons stood leaning against an old shed. She had heard her son calling out for her moments before, but she couldn't face him, yet; she had to collect herself and calm down enough to think clearly. That took a while, for Mary Aarons was seldom as upset as she was right then.

The morning had started off like most summer mornings over the past four years. Her best friend and neighbor, Judy Burke, showed up to talk, usually after Jack was off to work, and have the occasional cup of coffee or glass of juice. Mary had come to love the slightly obsessive mother of her son's girlfriend as a sister. They had a close friendship that was becoming stronger as Judy began to return to her faith: to Mary's faith. It had been the only significant obstacle Mary felt between them, and for two months now it had been fading. Mary loved talking with Judy about the church, but more than that, she loved encouraging her friend in her struggle to return to the fold. She knew Judy was irritated at times by her zeal, but that was part of the faith, wasn't it? Pushing your brothers and sisters to be the best they can be.

That Thursday, Jack and the older girls had left for work; both Brenda and Ellie now had full-time jobs in Baxley for the summer. Ellie, in particular, needed to get out of the house and have her mind occupied with something other than her boyfriend in boot camp. May was staying overnight with a friend from her soccer team; Joyce Ann and Brian were vegetating in front of the TV; and Jesse was out for his usual morning run with Leslie. Judy tapped on the door and walked into the kitchen, that's where Mary saw that something was wrong. Wordlessly, Judy sat at the table and waited for Mary to join her.

"You don't look happy, Jude. What's wrong?" asked Mary, setting a glass of orange juice down for her friend.

Judy looked up briefly, guiltily, and then stared at her drink a few more seconds before answering. "Mare...Bill got a call from England a few minutes ago, from Jason Graham, his publisher's rep. He wants us in Europe for the summer. Or most of it."

There it was, in three sentences. Mary didn't need to speculate any longer. The somber manner in which the news was delivered made it clear that the entire family was going, and Jesse and Leslie would be apart all summer. While good at disguising her feelings, this blow was tough to hide. Mary knew her son and Leslie were about as _in love_ as two kids their age could be, but instead of being wary of the attachment, she had felt nothing but joy lately that her first son was over the terrible ordeal of the previous summer, and, for the first time in his life, enjoying friends and growing socially.

Knowing it would be rude to mention this, Mary simply nodded and waited.

"And…"

_Here it comes,_ Mary thought. _The other shoe…_

"…there was a… The kids…" Judy cleared her throat and looked even more uncomfortable. "Leslie and Jesse got a little carried away while on their hike Tuesday. Has he talked to you or Jack about it?"

Mary breathed out a quiet _No_ as her mind raced in a million directions, but it quickly came down to what she could now see as two hard facts: Jesse and Leslie had crossed the line they had set for appropriate behavior, and Bill and Judy were taking Leslie away for the summer to make sure it didn't happen again, possibly to give them time to cool off, or even lose interest in each other and break-up.

She nodded, not knowing what to say any longer.

"Mare, I want you to know that we're not leaving because of what happened between the kids, it was relatively mild, from what Les told me…"

"How mild?"

Judy related the story Leslie had told her.

"Are you sure that's all?"

"I believe her, Mare. To be honest, it sounded like neither really knew what hit them. But I'm being honest with you; we would be going no matter what had happened with the kids. It's just bad timing. I know they're going to think this is some sort of punishment."

"Yes, that would be the first thing to pop into my head, too, Judy," Mary said with more than a little sarcasm, unintentionally letting her friend know that that was exactly what _had_ happened.

"Mary, please. We wouldn't do that to the kids."

Finally loosing her cool, Mary Aarons slapped her hand on the table upsetting her cup of coffee and startling her guest. Joyce Ann's head appeared above the counter until her mother shooed her away.

"Judy! Couldn't Leslie stay with us? It wouldn't be…" She stopped; her friend was shaking her head.

"We need her to watch Jimmy when we're busy…"

Mary finally lost control. "_Oh, for heaven's sake, Judy, you and Bill are RICH. Hire a bloody babysitter!_" Mary could feel her face flushing and what she called her '_Annoying female weakness'_ causing her to tear up, and she regretted the words as soon as she spoke them, but was still too angry to think clearly and retract the statement.

"That's not fair, Mary," Judy shot right back. "I won't leave my child with strangers and we can't take Jess with us."

"_Why not?_"

Judy looked at her friend with incredulity. "Is _that_ what this is all about? You think Bill and I have an _obligation_ to bring your son with us on every trip we take just so he can…" Judy almost said, _so he can feel-up my daughter when we're out._ Fortunately she spoke more discretely. "…just so he can be with Leslie? _Jesus Christ, Mary! There's a war on, and the people we're fighting like to blow up airplanes and kids_. Besides, we _COULDN'T_ take Jess if we wanted to; haven't you heard the latest travel restrictions? And right now I'm so _GOD DAMNED PISSED AT BILL_ for agreeing to this I could spit nails." Mary shrank back, never having seen her friend so intensely upset, and knowing she had played a big part in setting her off. But Judy wasn't done yet, either. "_Joan's kids are here and we have to drop them off before we leave. Not to mention pack, get someone to take care of the house, all by the time our plane disappears over the Atlantic. And I have a suspicion I'm going to get SOME_ _resistance from my_ _DAUGHTER!_ _DO I SOUND HAPPY ABOUT ANY OF THIS TO YOU?"_

Joyce Ann's head reappeared above the counter again, this time her face was fearful, and Brian sounded like he was whimpering. Judy, finally realizing how worked up she had become, felt terrible for raising her voice and apologized, leaving the table with Mary to comfort the kids.

"My fault, Jude," Mary said a minute later as she nursed Brian to calm him. "I was way out of line. Sorry." She dabbed her eyes with a napkin wondering what to do, but there didn't appear to be any options. She felt sick for her son more than anything, knowing he would be devastated. "So, I guess the beach is out, too? The kids were really looking forward to that." Then realizing she had put her foot in her mouth again, Mary looked at Judy and apologized for the third time.

The two spoke guardedly for a while: Mary trying to further apologize and reduce the tension her tactlessness and selfishness had created, and Judy, afraid to say much of anything for fear of losing her already badly strained temper again. Then she had an idea.

"I'll talk to Bill, the beach house is paid for, you guys might as well go, take some friends... and think of us signing books in some piss-ant town in…_Lichtenstein_ while you're soaking up the sun. I really have to pack…and wait for Les," she finished morosely, getting up and helping Mary to her feet so as not to jostle Brian from his slumber.

Mary smiled weakly, feeling wretched, but managed to give her friend yet another apology and hug goodbye. "Leave the keys, Jude. Jess can take care of PT and the house."

"Thanks, you're a life saver. If I have time I'll stop by on the way out." Judy looked at her watch. "No, I don't think I'll have time. _Shit!_ Sorry Joyce Ann! I'll call you about the beach. Please make sure Jess knows why he can't come with us. I _really do_ feel terrible. Gotta run."

Mary Aarons watched her neighbor walk rapidly out of the house and down the drive, and felt again like crying. The whirlwind of news and shouting hadn't taken ten minutes, but she felt like they had been fighting all day. Brian, now soundly asleep, was placed into his playpen and Mary asked Joyce Ann to keep an eye on him for a few minutes while she went outside to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with her older son.

- - -

Jesse walked into the kitchen to prepare breakfast and found his mother at the table cleaning up her spilled coffee. He could also tell she had been crying so he left her alone. But pausing for a second and putting together his mother's condition, and Mrs. Burke's earlier behavior, Jesse calculated that they had had a fight, and he froze.

_Had they talked about what happened with Les and me the other day?_

That had to be it, Jesse concluded sourly, and with the realization that he would now have to confess his error. Sitting at the table, he looked at his mother until she acknowledged him.

"Jess, we need to talk," his mother started.

"I know, Mom. I was going to talk to Dad about it, really, I just…forgot," he ended the excuse a little weakly.

"We can talk about _that_ later, Jess. This is about Leslie."

"I _know_, Mom…"

"Jess Oliver Aarons, hush up this minute. You _don't_ know," his mother snapped. Then, in a few short, direct sentences, she informed him of the real reason she was upset.

Silently, his mouth half-opened with a protest he couldn't quite produce, while his mother gave the bad news, Jesse sat listening, feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut.

"This is because I...hurt Les, isn't it?"

Mary looked perplexed for a moment. "How did you hurt her, Jess?"

"The other day, when I…" He stopped, too miserable to confess aloud his sin.

"_NO!_ And Judy said that Leslie is _not_ upset. I thought that, too, but she made it clear this was just a coincidence."

Mary could tell her son was not buying it and tried again, with as little success. She tried to cheer Jesse by mentioning the beach house, but he was not in the least interested. When he looked up, finally accepting the situation, Mary tried again to console her son, but his face was blank and he walked out the door without another word. Putting her face in her hands, Mary fought back tears and tried to think of something that would help Jesse through the next eight weeks. _At least he has some good friends now…_

Jesse, stunned by the news, had walked away to see Leslie, but stopped well short of their house when he heard Mr. and Mrs. Burke in a heated argument. After listening to some of the angry discourse, Jesse realized it would not be ending soon and turned back home. He had, however, learned one important item that confirmed what his mother had claimed: They were not going away for the summer because of what had happened between himself and their daughter. Still, even this realization brought little comfort to the teen and he shuffled home. Leslie and he had made plans for the entire break, and these were now hopelessly shattered. But above all else, Jesse could not imagine how he would fill his summer days without his best friend. For years now, it had been him and Leslie together, and this wasn't a long weekend up in Arlington.

_Eight weeks!_

Nearly out of range of the arguing adults, Jesse heard another sound and turned to see Leslie sprinting towards him. He thought he had never seen a sight more beautiful and upsetting at the same time. Leslie slowed down as she collided with him, sending both into the shrubs along the side of the road.

"Do you know?" Leslie asked, her voice cracking as she clung to her best friend.

"Yeah. I was coming down to see you but heard your Mom and Dad fighting so I thought I better come back later."

"There won't be a later, we're leaving by eleven." Leslie was obviously on the verge of breaking down completely and her face was covered with angry red splotches.

"That's in an hour!" Jesse complained; Leslie nodded, frowning. In the distance, they could now hear Bill Burke shouting for his daughter to come home.

"Great! So, I guess this is good bye?"

"Yeah."

Standing, embracing, Jesse and Leslie held each other for a few seconds before breaking apart a little and kissing. But it was a brief, empty kiss and held none of the passion they'd felt two days earlier. Leslie started crying softly when they heard her father approach, then she let go, kissed Jesse's cheek, and walked into the drive just a few feet from her father.

"Let's go, Les, we have lots to do," her father said sharply, heading back to the house.

Nodding wordlessly, Leslie noticing that Jesse didn't make his presence known.

Then she was gone.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It was a week before Mary Aarons could get Jesse to mentally rejoin the entire family. He still did his chores, responded when spoken to, and jogged every morning, but everyone from youngest to oldest could see he was hurting. Even his father let him be. Mary knew that some type of private father-son talk had taken place that first evening Leslie was gone, but Jack refused to share details of the entire conversation with his wife, except to note that Jesse had brought up the 'incident' with Leslie.

Interestingly, that first week of separation drew Jesse and Ellie together, and while none could call their relationship close, it was warmer and more understanding than it had ever been. Nearly every evening, Ellie would stop by Jesse's room and they would talk for a while; once they even went for a long walk. This was all clearly helping Ellie more than Jesse, but his sister's prodding began to bring Jesse around and she convinced him that calling Tom might be good for his spirits. Jesse doubted it, for although their friendship had been repaired, it was not back to its prior level of intimacy. However, it did remind Jesse of something important he and Leslie had talked about: Grace.

So a week and a half after Leslie had left town, Jesse called Tom and asked if he and Grace wanted to invite themselves over to the Keane's house for an afternoon of swimming. Tom instantly said yes, and that he and _Lisa_ had already planned just that. Feeling no better, except that the pool would relieve the oppressive heat, Jesse headed out, with Ellie giving him a ride. When they arrived at the Jacob's house, Tom and Lisa were ready and waiting for him. Jesse's gut churned seeing the two together and he felt like cancelling without Leslie going with him, but Ellie pushed him out the door and told him to call when he wanted to come home.

"Hi, Jess," Lisa and Tom called out together, "Where's Les?"

Jesse explained and both looked genuinely sorry for him. "Isn't Grace coming?" asked Jesse, trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

"Nah, she's wimping-out on us. Said she didn't want too much sun," her brother explained. Jesse doubted that was the real reason, so he asked if he could speak to her; Tom wished him good luck.

Calling up the stairs to his friend, Jesse received a sharp rebuke in reply. Then he heard the noise of her squeaky bed and her head appeared at the top of the stairway.

"Sorry, I thought you were Tom. Why are you here?"

"Tom, Lisa, and I are going over to the Keane's house to swim. Why don't you come with us?"

Grace hesitated. "Where's Les?"

Jesse told her, fighting back a lump in his throat. It must have shown.

"Oh, Jess, I'm so sorry," Grace said sincerely. "Les told me you two had a lot planned." She saw Jesse nod. He didn't look at all happy.

"Give me a minute; I'll go with you guys. Maybe… well, just a minute."

Grace disappeared into her room and Jesse sat sullenly on the bottom step applying suntan lotion, again wondering why he had come over. Shortly, Grace reappeared in what looked like one of her father's t-shirts over her suit and a large fluffy towel he recognized from the beach last year. With a twinge of nagging sadness, he greeted her again, trying to sound happy, but was only reminded more of Leslie and her absence. Their hair was the same color, but Leslie's was shorter and straight, as opposed to Grace's being longer and a little wavy. Jesse had asked Leslie once why she wore her hair short, but it was earlier in their relationship, and when she answered by asking if he would like her to grow it longer for him he froze, and was barely able to shake his head. Now, seeing Grace's tied in a long ponytail, made Jesse wonder how Leslie would look with a similar style.

"Maybe Tom can show me on his computer," Jesse said absently. He had spaced-out and forgotten Grace was with him.

"Do what?"

"Oh, nothing. Sorry." Grace gave him a funny look, shrugged, and walked out the front door with Jesse behind.

Tom and Lisa had started down the street and were already half-way to the Keane's when Jesse and Grace exited the house. Seeing her brother had left them behind, Grace harrumphed and apologized for his rudeness. Jesse chuckled and assured her he was used to it, causing Grace to laugh, too.

"He was such an ass with those pictures. I can't believe he did that."

Jesse stopped in his tracks. "You _knew_?"

"Of course I knew, Jess. Live with Tommy as long as I have and those things are easy to spot."

Jesse laughed, and really felt amused, too, for the first time in ten days.

"I guess he would say the same about you." He stopped and looked suspiciously at Grace. "What dirt does he have on you…I wonder?"

"Nothing like that I can assure you, so watch it, bonehead. Besides, I'm far too boring to have anything interesting about me." Both laughed this time, but Jesse's was more polite. It had been years since anyone had called him bonehead, and that had been Leslie.

When they rounded the corner to the cul-de-sac, Tom and Lisa were just walking in the Keane's front door. Barb was on the porch, waving, wearing an outrageous pink-feathered hat that, in addition to clashing with her long red hair, was painfully bright to look at. Grace laughed and ran the last fifty yards, giving Barb a brief hug and disappearing inside. Jesse stopped in surprise for a second, not realizing Grace and Barb were on hugging terms again. Then he proceeded and was there half a minute later, dramatically shielding his eyes. Barb giggled and greeted her last guest more formally, bowing and touching the brim of the hat in an absurd overly-theatrical manner.

She also stopped Jesse before he walked in.

"I heard about Leslie. Are you ok?"

Jesse started again. Barb had never said anything so genuine to him, to the point where he wondered if she was faking her concern. But in preparing to answer, he saw the sincerity in her eyes, so he answered truthfully.

"It's getting better, I guess. I never realized how much we were together until she left."

Barb smiled a little sadly and gave him a one-armed hug, then they went inside. Walking through the quiet house, Jesse shivered at the bone-chilling air-conditioning, but felt a little happier. Between Grace's quiet, comforting presence, and Barb's genuine concern, he sensed that he might actually be able to make it through six and a half more weeks without feeling totally miserable. It was a good feeling.

Then he came across Maddie and Terri and his heart sank. They greeted him politely, wearing kimonos. Jesse was sure that was all they were wearing, but didn't look for evidence to confirm his guess; Barb answered his question.

"They'll behave, Jess, don't worry. Mom and Dad are outside. Oh! Almost forgot, you guys are invited for dinner if you want to stay around."

Jesse hesitated and Barb frowned.

"Come with me for a sec." She led him to one of the huge couches in the living room facing a massive fireplace. Jesse was starting to shake from the cold and wished the fire was lit. Barb sat down next to him, but not close enough to make him uncomfortable. She had learned that his sphere of personal space was larger than most guy's, especially around girls.

"Jess, Leslie told me you were ok with my family, now that you understood our rules. Are you going to be uncomfortable?"

"No, sorry, it just brought back…never mind. I'm ok. Really"

Barb gave him an appraising look; she wasn't sure if she should believe him. "Ok, just want to make sure. Let me know if there's any, er, problems. Let's get outside, you're turning blue."

Jesse had jumped up as soon as she said 'outside,' and they made a quick exit. But the relief of a forty degree temperature change wore off quickly, and by the time Jesse had shed his sandals and shirt he was already perspiring heavily. Jumping into the pool, he finally found a place where the temperature balance was just right. Looking around, he took stock of the yard to see if anyone unexpected was present.

Tom and Lisa were standing to the side, talking to Mr. and Mrs. Keane; Jesse waved at them when they looked his way. Jen and Maggie were on the court playing a disgustingly good game of tennis and he waded to the far side of the pool to watch them for a few minutes. They were dressed up with what looked to be tailored tennis clothes, shoes, visors, and even had a ball boy chasing after their very few missed hits. Judging from the boy's looks, he was probably a neighbor earning a couple dollars; he was too young to be a friend of Terri or Maddie…he hoped. As he watched, Jesse was again mystified at Tom's evaluation a year earlier about the older girls' looks. Maggie was not at all unattractive. _Jen_, he conceded after watching her for a couple minutes, _she has a nice figure, but..._

He turned away, feeling guilty for critiquing one of his hosts.

Paddling around with a couple 'noodles' under his arms, he finally saw Grace partially hidden behind two of the Keane's hideously ugly green deck lounge chairs. It mystified Jesse that these people, who had as much money as they appeared to have, bought the best of everything except for these chairs. He smiled at the absurdity. Then he saw Terri and Maddie returning. He had to concede that they were now 'dressed,' but only technically. When their mother called the girls over, he hoped it was to admonish them. Shaking his head and turning to avoid temptation, he found Grace now sitting on the edge of the pool deck trying to get his attention.

"Jess, did you put lotion on?" she asked seriously. Jesse's skin was naturally dark enough that he didn't burn easily, but he did burn. Grace's was almost as pale as the Keane's Irish pale freckled skin.

"Yes, ma'am. Before I came over. Except for my back."

She smiled and handed him the bottle. "Do my back, then I'll do yours."

"_Yes_, ma'am," he repeated. Grace laughed, pulling the back of her t-shirt up and over her head, and made some comment about doing it right. When he was finished, Grace pretended to tip him and wiped the pasty liquid all over. She then removed the shirt, and jumped in the water.

Jesse watched her swim gracefully back and forth the length of the pool a few times. _She is a pretty girl_, he acknowledged, but didn't understand why she had no male friends apart from their immediate ones. Leslie had told him – _reminded him_ – that dating in the pre-high school years was not very common. "Most kids who might be interested in dating are still too self-conscious or shy at our age," she said. "You and me are the exception."

_And Tom, Mikey, Lisa, and Carol…_

When she stopped swimming, Grace ducked under the surface, leaning her head backward, _like Leslie does_, Jesse realized, to wash her hair out of her face. As she surfaced and stood in the waist-deep water, he noticed that Tom's 'little' sister had grown since he'd last seen her in a bathing suit at Duck. She had always been pretty, particularly her face and hair, but a little on the thin side, and while not flat-chested, he noticed improvements in both those areas. Grace caught Jesse looking at her and immediately dove into the water. Remembering it was rude to stair, Jesse turned his attention elsewhere, but now and then looked back at his friend, astonished at how much she had changed…and wondering how he hadn't noticed it.

Over the next two hours, Jesse found that for the first time since Leslie had left, he wasn't thinking constantly of her. In an odd way, he realized, it was a great relief: He still missed her, but found in many of his friends little pieces of her that filled in the emptiness. More than once Grace could have passed as her double, standing at the side of the pool, facing away, with her ponytail wrapped around her neck. They looked amazingly similar. Barb was her usual self: physical, fun-loving, pushing him around playfully, sometimes jumping on him as she had done the previous summer, but this time it didn't bother him at all. Even her touch, which he had been so apprehensive about, felt reassuring, not invasive. And she treated Tom the same way, and her father, too, when he got in the water. (He caught a brief flash of jealousy from Lisa at one point, and went over to tell her the same thing he had learned: _That's just the way she is._) Even Tom offered Jesse a bit of Leslie when he got a devious look on his face. _True_, _Tom's idea of mischief was much different than Leslie's...or perhaps not…_

Terri and Maddie, by their very nature and attire, threatened wardrobe malfunctions every time they jumped in the water. Jesse was honestly relieved to be spared from the one obvious occasion when Maddie's suit left her partly exposed, but he was also delighted to see that Tom wasn't gawking while her mother feverishly tried to fix a broken clasp. And besides, Lisa was cute and knew how to comfortably show-off in a two-piece, also.

By late afternoon, everyone was out of the water and engaged in some activity, usually a card game or some form of female gossip that involved lots of giggles and hushed voices. Since Tom and Jesse were the only two male teens present, they tended to pair off to avoid the worst of these dialogues, but were not beyond drifting back and forth between listening to a conversation and then discussing how much they disliked them. Now and then, Grace, Lisa, or Barb would come over and suggest something they could all play. Jesse was game, but Tom repeatedly begged off, earning him a number of severely disappointed looks from his girlfriend. Finally, Tom suggested they "Hit the tennis ball around," an accurate description of their meager talent. Unfortunately, the ball boy had long ago departed and they were on their own chasing the numerous, errant, green furry balls.

On one of their many trips over the fence to collect the balls, Jesse pressed Tom for information about how Grace was really feeling. Reluctant at first, he finally gave in to Jesse's persistence and told him the truth; at least as how he understood it.

"She's scared about next year. I mean, _really_ scared. Pretty much all her friends are going to be in high school. A couple times I've heard her crying at night. She sounded like she wanted to talk to our Mom, but not in a crazy way."

Jesse heart went out to Grace at hearing this. He clearly recalled many years in his life, before Leslie and he became close, where he had _no one_ to talk to. Jesse listened attentively as Tom continued, immensely relieved that his friend didn't think, as Leslie did, that _he_ was the source of her depression.

"Have you tried to talk to her?"

"Grace has hardly said anything to me since..._you know when_. I mean, in public she's sisterly and all that shit, but at home? Forget it. Dad's even noticed. I think she wants me to fess up about the pictures, but I told her I paid the price already." Tom stopped and tapped on his four capped teeth.

"Want me to say something to her?" asked Jesse, but Tom just shook his head.

"Why bother, mate? Then she'll be pissed at you, too."

Both boys laughed.

Jesse sat down on the outside of the Keane's fence and motioned for Tom to join him. "If we go back in there the girls will try to listen in; let's stay out here a little longer."

Tom joined him and they spent the next half-hour chatting about all sorts of silly and meaningful things that both had not shared in nine months: their fears about high school, and beyond. Tom brought up his relationship with Lisa and how it had gotten off to a rocky start because her identical twin sister, Carol, would sometimes trade places and go out with him while Mikey Sellers was with Lisa. Jesse found this greatly amusing and asked Tom if he had never noticed Lisa's small scar. Looking stricken, he just cursed and shook his head. Then he laughed, and Jesse joined him.

The final barrier to their reconciliation seemed to be gone.

Dinner that evening was spectacular. Mr. Keane was a wizard on a grill and offered choices of barbequed chicken, steak, salmon, or the traditional hamburgers and hot dogs. It had been almost two years since Jesse last enjoyed salmon in France, and he jumped at the offer, smiling greedily when Mrs. Keane brought out two thick salmon steaks just for him.

Grace and Barb ate with Jesse on one of the sickeningly green deck chairs, laughing at the two youngest Keane children who had tried to maneuver themselves onto either side of Jesse for the meal. Tom was playfully feeding Lisa a couple tables away while Maggie tried to interest them in playing JV tennis in the fall. Mr. and Mrs. Keane were eating on the deck with their eldest daughter and, apparently, having a wonderful time with the entire afternoon.

A little after six, Ellie showed up to see if Jesse wanted a ride home, but he could tell that what she really wanted was to join them. Barb instantly picked up Jesse's glance and insisted she remain, her parents agreeing wholeheartedly. Ellie put up little resistance and sat quietly with Jesse for a minute, picking at his salmon with her eyes becoming huge in a climax of culinary ecstasy. While a salmon steak was put on the grill for her, Jesse took his sister around and introduced her to his friends and the Keane family. Secretly he was nervous that Ellie would start acting up or embarrass him, but she behaved, far better than Terri and Maddie. As soon as Ellie finished eating, the two youngest Keane girls dragged her off to find her a bathing suit. Jesse looked pleadingly at Barb again and she ran off to make sure her sisters stayed in check. Five minutes later Barb returned and whispered her news to Jesse.

"Don't worry; the only suit that fits her is one of Jen's." Meaning it would be a modest one piece.

The evening swim began quietly as almost all the kids were tired from the previous six hours of activity. Ellie spent most of her time talking to Jen and adjusting the suit which appeared uncomfortably snug in spots. When she saw Jesse watching her during one of these adjustments she did the last thing in the world he would have expected: She laughed. Unable to help himself, he gave her a warm smile in return.

"You two getting along better?"

Jesse jumped in surprise. Grace had come up behind him and put her hands over his eyes, holding tight when he tried to shake her off.

"_Yeah!_" he heaved loudly, grabbing Grace's arms, and throwing her over his head. But she didn't come to the surface immediately, and realizing they were in shallow water, Jesse stepped over to make sure she was all right. As he was about to reach for her, however, Grace surfaced with an injured expression on her face.

"Are you o...?" Jesse started to say, only to have his expression of concern interrupted by Grace spitting a mouthful of water in his face, most of which ended up in his mouth and nose.

"_Yes!_" laughed Grace, swimming off while Jesse choked and threatened reprisal, but everyone was watching him and he chickened out.

Then Ellie swam over to him, but for what reason, Jesse could not guess.

"You look happier than you've been in a while."

Jesse froze for a second, not use to this side of his sister; kindness and concern were two foreign words to her and he sputtered through an answer until a voice called from the other end of the pool.

"Hey you two: Jacobs against Aarons." Tom had hoisted Grace onto his shoulders and was headed their way for a chicken fight.

Jesse felt an all too familiar punch on his arm, and turning, expecting to see Ellie scowling, he instead saw she was smiling deviously and motioning for him to hunch down so she could get on his shoulders. The spectators cheered as Jesse struggled to get his sister mounted without drowning. Ellie was not so much uncomfortable as Jesse was off-balanced, but she _was_ a little top-heavy, not being as petite as Leslie. His first few steps were awkward, and they tilted dangerously as Grace and Tom approached, but quickly stabilized in the deeper water.

The battle was on, and the cheers from the others egged both teams together. At first, Ellie swatted playfully at Grace, but Jesse retreated momentarily and warned his sister against giving the girl even the slightest advantage. Ellie pooh-poohed the advice and they soon found themselves knocked down unceremoniously. Grace and Tom had always been fairly competitive, and Jesse knew this was an advantage for them. The only time Jesse could remember Ellie being aggressive was when she used to tie him up and roll him down the stairs.

When she surfaced, Jesse now saw a determined smile on his sister's face and he knew they had a chance. He gloated for a second with an _I-told-you-so_, then submerged and let Ellie remount.

But the second round also went to the Jacobs when Jesse became distracted by the realization that Grace and Tom were again talking to each other amicably. He stopped, smiled stupidly, and was underwater before he knew what hit him. This time Ellie _did_ punch him, but not too hard.

From that point on, the Aarons' team won every battle. They had a good six inches and fifty pounds on the Jacobs' team, and really shouldn't have lost _any_ of the rounds. When finished, Jesse again had to pick his jaw up from the ground: Ellie had hugged Grace _and_ Tom while playfully gloating about their victory. Watching, stunned, Jesse wondered who had taken over his sister's body.

- - -

Near nine that night, when Ellie announced that she and Jesse had to leave, they were answered with a chorus of lighthearted boos. In her best manners, Ellie went around to every person to say goodbye, and thanked Mr. and Mrs. Keane just as politely and even more effusively. Jesse followed her example – a first, as far as he could remember – and they left for home. The short ride was quiet; Jesse was afraid to say anything that might change his sister back into her usual bitchy self. But when they came into the house together, Ellie put her arm around Jesse's shoulder, a move both their parents saw and had difficulty believing, and announced for all to hear that she had had a fantastic time with_ her brother. _Then she headed up to shower. When she had left, Jesse laughed at the look on his parent's faces. But there was also something very, very, appreciative in their expressions. Later, while getting ready for bed, his mother stopped by and told Jesse what it was he had noticed.

"Jess, today was the first time we _ever_ saw real affection in your sister towards any her siblings. Thank you."

Blushing, Jesse protested modestly, "I didn't do nothing." But he knew, and he knew his mother knew, that he _was_ partially responsible for the change, however accidental or inadvertent. Mary Aarons smiled at her son and left him to finish getting ready for bed.

It wasn't five seconds later that the phone rang. Jesse had to fight an urge to run and grab the extension in his parent's room; he had been expecting a call from Leslie for days. The phone was answered on its second ring, and with an eerie feeling of déjà vu, Joyce Ann, now about the same age as May had been on a fateful day four years before, ran down the hallway to Jesse's room and announced that, "Your _girlfriend_ is on the phone."

Jesse took the cordless and gently pushed his sister from the room. "Hello? _Les?_"

"Jess?" a very quiet, subdued voice asked.

"_Les? Is that you?!_" he nearly shouted.

Still quiet: "Yes...are you ok, Jess?"

"Yeah, but you sound…you sound, um, I don't know. Is everything ok? What country are you in?"

"We're in England, but leaving for Belgium in a couple hours."

_A couple hours?_ Jesse looked at his clock, it read ten-fifty. _It must be almost four in the morning there!_ "Why are you up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep. Woke up thinking about you." Her voice was sleepy and half way through her comment she yawned loudly.

"Yeah, this sucks, big-time. I miss you. Heaps."

Leslie laughed quietly. "'Heaps'? I've only been gone ten days and you're already reverting back to your old hick-speak."

Both laughed. It made Jesse feel good...and bad. Much of the progress he'd made that day in getting over Leslie was being washed away.

"I have so much to tell you. We might be home earlier than planned," she mentioned, almost as an afterthought.

"That's great! Are Bill and Judy behaving?"

"_Bill_ and _Judy_ haven't stopped fighting since we left home; Jimmy's been a lot more fun. Speaking of fun, guess who's joining us in Antwerp in a couple days?"

"Not me," said Jesse darkly.

"No, believe me, you _would be_ much better. Do you remember J.B. White and his delightful mother?"

Jesse didn't need one second to recall the most unpleasant women he'd ever met.

"Ha! Lucky you...J.B.? He must be in college now. Is he still drawing for Philosopher Books?"

"Yeah, he's on the tour for a week because of his connections with Jackie Roller. He...I don't know if you knew this, he got the contract for the other illustrations for her book."

"Good for him," Jesse muttered sarcastically.

"Oh, don't be a jerk, Jess. You were better than him two years ago and you'll be better than him again soon."

"If you say so," he muttered again.

"I do. And don't go feeling sorry for yourself; I miss you so much and you need to keep me happy."

"Ok, ok. Why didn't you call sooner?"

Another pause. "Mom said it would be easier if we didn't talk the first couple weeks." Leslie scoffed, telling Jesse exactly how she felt about that theory. "In fact, I'm not supposed to be talking to you now."

"I really miss you, Les. There have been some…interesting things going on here, too. We can talk about them later."

Leslie yawned again and Jesse could tell by her quieting voice that she was ready to go to sleep. He told her to get back in bed and begged her to call again in a few days. Leslie promised she would and ended the call with another yawn and soft "Good night." Jesse could see her smile as she said it, and that made hanging up the phone a little less difficult.

Returning the cordless to his parent's room, Jesse told them about his conversation and headed to bed, hoping he could get to sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_I had inspiration and time to write, a rare combination these days, so I churned out another chapter for you to gnaw on for a while. I still can't say when/if this will become more regular, but I'll try. I've been spending time developing my HDM fanfic and hope to have the first chapter out in the next week or so._

_Please take a couple minutes to answer my poll on the placeforus-dot-net website forum. It's under the _Advertising_ section._

_My personal web site has been upgraded. Please see my profile in www-dot-fanfiction-dot-net to link to the site._

_IHateSnakes_


	39. Part 5: The BreakUp

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 39 – The Break-Up**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Over the next few weeks, Jesse fell into a comfortable and comforting pattern that helped the summer fly past as fast as he could have hoped. He found himself at the Keane's so often his parents had to remind him of his chores for the first time in a year. Of course, Tom and Grace were there nearly as often, as well as Mikey, Lisa, and Carol. More often than not, these afternoon swims turned into all-day events, but Barb's parents never seemed to tire of the company; indeed, they encouraged _more_ rather than _fewer_ gatherings, to the point where Jesse was _almost_ getting tired of salmon. As June turned into July, the other Keane girls' friends began appearing, as well as a few neighbors whose ruffled feathers needed settling. Jesse learned that pool parties, especially continuous pool parties, and _most_ especially when they were comprised of all teens, tended to be loud and annoying to the surrounding house. Mr. & Mrs. Keane like to promote harmony in their corner of Lark Creek, so neighbors became more frequent visitors, too.

Jesse welcomed these other guests, especially when they included boys. He, Tom, and Mikey were the only male teens regularly present until Maggie started inviting some of the boys from the high school tennis team, and then he sat back and watched Grace interacting with them. Unfortunately, the age difference, though only a couple years, was enough to shy her away from anything but the most casual activities and conversations. More than once, he saw her swim away from one of the guests whom he had encouraged to chat with her. Barb eventually caught on to what Jesse was doing and pulled him aside.

"You're not going to help matters by pushing guys at her," she snarled, obviously annoyed. They were standing in the same small clearing Tom, Terri, and Maddie had used for their now infamous rendezvous the previous summer. "What's your problem anyway, Jess? If you want to do something helpful, stop ignoring her and be a friend."

"_I'm trying!_ _But… _Les thought that she had a crush on me, and I didn't want to encourage her."

Barb shook her head, as if saying, _You poor stupid male_.

"_What?!_"

"Jesse Aarons," she began, patiently, "Gracie doesn't have a mother, and she's going through one of the toughest periods of adolescence for a girl. Added to that, one of her two best friends has unexpectedly gone away for the summer, and _you_, _her other best friend_, is treating her like _a problem to solve_." Barb rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Typical _male_ behavior."

Jesse sputtered while trying to think up a good reply, but he was too shocked, for he had never really considered that Grace might think that much of him. A crush and a friend were not always the same thing, he knew. Barb saw his surprised expression and gave him another _poor stupid male _look.

"Jess, spend some time with her. Just you two…_if you think you can handle it_," she added challengingly. When Barb saw his discomfort, she made a suggestion. "You're still talking to Les every few days, right? Ask her. I guarantee she'll agree with me… And I know she trusts you'll keep your hands to yourself," she added, giving him an uncomfortably knowing smirk.

Jesse's surprise at the teased insinuation was so obvious that Barb burst into laughter; but he wasn't amused, and wondered if Leslie _had_ told her about…

"I don't know, Barb…why don't _you_ do something with her? You just said she needs a female friend."

"No, I said she was missing her mother, and besides, Grace still doesn't trust my family completely. Maybe..." She looked thoughtful for a few seconds and then nodded. "The pool's closed to visitors the next couple days while the _Keane sisters_ work on eliminating the tan lines we've been getting with you lot. Maybe she'd like to join us. I'll ask my parents…"

"_NO!_ I'll talk to Les tonight. We'll figure out something. Um, thanks."

"Good man, Jess." And with a hidden, self-satisfied smile, Barb walked off.

Jesse flopped on a chair and felt like he'd just been expertly set-up, but then admonished himself for his selfishness.

_Grace IS my friend, and if this will help her, I'll do it. After I talk to Les…_

- - -

Jesse had a difficult time judging his girlfriend's reaction to Barb's suggestion. Verbally she agreed with the idea, even so far as to say she had thought of the same thing, but there was a hesitation in her voice that sent up red flags and Jesse eventually said that he really did not feel comfortable doing it with Grace. Leslie broke out in laughter and told him, "I never expected you to _do it_ with her."

"Yeah, real funny," Jesse mumbled, not at all amused.

They talked on for another half hour. He discovered that the strain between Judy and Bill was worse, and that she had not been able to pin her father down on the early departure he had mentioned weeks before. Jesse cursed silently. Leslie then told him that they were starting a weeklong tour in Germany the next day, where, she also informed him, J.B. and his mother would rejoin them for a few days.

"The funny thing is, Jess, J.B.'s mother is nowhere near as hideous now. I think she even smiled once." They both laughed.

"Yeah, it was probably me she hated," he reasoned aloud.

"Actually, Jess, I think that's exactly what it was. She goes off at anyone or anything that might challenge her son. Like, J.B. told me he's returning to King's College – that's at Cambridge - in the fall, and wants to work full time on voice and music. He has a beautiful singing voice, but he says his mother is pushing for him to concentrate on art, so he's not real happy. Every time he hums something she snaps at him." Leslie went on for a few more minutes re-telling horror stories J.B. had related to her about trying out for the King's College Choir and his mother's reactions when he did not pass the auditions.

Jesse listened, not really noticing a spark of jealousy trying to ignite inside him. His _conscious_ curiosity was trying to determine how his girlfriend had learned so much about this person. When he noticed Leslie had stopped talking and asked her to repeat herself, she sighed, as if she was being putout by repeating herself.

"I _said_, are you still living at the Keane's?" she snapped.

Taken aback by Leslie's curtness, Jesse hesitated.

"_Well?_"

"Um, yeah, it's been really hot, you know, so the pool is great."

"Are Terri and Maddie behaving?"

"Barely…um, no pun intended. Thank God their mother is with them most of the time."

Leslie gave a neutral sounding _humph_. "I guess I should go. Jimmy's tearing up the room. Jess, take Gracie out like Barb said. If you _really_ feel uncomfortable, or you think she's getting too attached, just stop. I can't see it being a problem."

"I don't know, Les…maybe."

"Fine. Do as you think best. Still miss me?"

"Yeah…heaps."

"_Ugh_. On that note, I'll say goodnight."

"_Jess?_" The curtness returned.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Night."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Talk to you soon."

Jesse hung up with a disquieting feeling in his stomach.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Two weeks later, Jesse found that Barb's advice was working superbly. He and Grace had spent hours – days - together, mostly talking while they walked around the neighborhood, but they also went out a few evenings. Once she came over and walked P.T. far into the forest with him. Another time they sat for hours in a ratty restaurant near school sipping pop, talking, and smashing cockroaches. Grace joked that it was the most entertaining _date_ she had ever been on.

The next day, Jesse, Grace, and Lisa took Tom out for his fifteenth birthday. It was July twelfth. That also turned out to be the first time Jesse and Grace were confronted with the way others were viewing their friendship. After the four had chatted a while at the local pizza dive, Lisa said to Jesse and Grace, "So, you two are together now?"

Jesse was naively unconcerned about comment, though Grace told her _no,_ and in no uncertain terms. Tom then 'asked' Lisa to help him pick out some songs in the jukebox and made a quick exit, nearly dragging his girlfriend behind him.

"I'm so sorry, Jess," said Grace as soon as they were alone. "I was afraid Lisa would read something into us being together. You know it's not like that, and so do I. Les will be back soon and…well, you know. Maybe we should go…"

"_No!_" Jesse snapped. He was far angrier with himself for not realizing how much it upset Grace than with Lisa's comment. "We're not going to ruin Tom's birthday. This'll blow over. I'll go get 'em."

He climbed out of the booth and found his friends at the jukebox looking uncomfortable. Lisa immediately apologized, but Jesse said it wasn't a problem and told her that anyone who had seen him and Grace together over the past couple weeks might think the same thing. Lisa gave him a thankful smile for his absolution and they returned to the table. It took a little while for the tension to ease, but in the end, Jesse felt Tom had a nice time.

- - -

Shortly after his birthday, Jesse was visiting Tom to see the new computer his father had given him for his birthday. They were looking around the internet when something caught Jesse's eye, it was an article on the MSNBC news site about Bill Burke and his European tour. He pointed it out to Tom who opened the link and saw a picture of Bill, Leslie, Jimmy, J.B., and Mrs. White – and she was smiling. Judy Burke was conspicuously absent. Jesse felt a lump in his throat. Aside from the pictures of his girlfriend he saw in the Burke's house when he went to take care of P.T., it was the most recent view of her he'd seen in many weeks. Tom looked over his shoulder, saw his friend's eyes staring blankly, and had an idea.

When Jesse was finished reading the article, Tom _Googled_ 'Leslie Burke' and found a half-dozen hits pertaining to their friend. Two were links to articles about the tour in England two years earlier. The other four, they saw, were more recent. Three led back to the MSNBC article they had just seen, and the last one took them to _The Sun_, a British tabloid. Tom clicked on the link and they were taken directly to the previous week's edition's third page.

Both boys saw it at the same time and Tom's heart sank; there was nothing he could do to prevent Jesse from seeing the grainy black and white snapshots of Leslie. She was eating with J.B., and playfully putting a piece of bread in J.B.'s mouth. The last shot showed J.B. kissing Leslie's cheek at what looked like the end of a date. The headlined were even more damning: _Author's Daughter Romanced by Artist?_

Jesse didn't notice that Tom had left the room to give him privacy, and he continued reading.

_Leslie Burke, the 15 year-old daughter of the famous American fiction writer, Bill Burke, has been seen in the presence of long-time acquaintance Jared (J.B.) White, 17, a student of Cambridge University. The two met on her father's previous European tour and have reportedly kept in touch over the years. Though only in her mid-teens, Ms. Burke looked confident and comfortable with the older White and showed no reluctance with displaying her affection in public. The Sun tried to contact her parents but…_

Jesse couldn't continue. His stomach knotted and he found it hard to breathe. He tried to convince himself that this was just a trashy _Tabloid_, but a _British Tabloid_ owned a far better reputation than its American counterparts did. He tried to rationalize it as shoddy journalism; they had not even gotten J.B. or Leslie's age correct. He _knew_ Leslie had not been corresponding with J.B. for the past two years…at least, he _thought_ he knew it. He considered doctored pictures, but he recognized the clothes Leslie was wearing in every photo.

"I don't believe it," he began to mutter to himself, over and over, as his heart plunged and his bowels gurgled ominously.

Someone sat next to him. It was Grace, unless Tom had taking to using baby-powder scented deodorant.

"Jess, Tom said something…" She stopped and gasped.

Jesse could hardly speak. "Read it."

A minute later Jesse felt Grace's arm around his shoulder, but _he_ felt like vomiting. The last thing in the _world_ he wanted at that moment was a _girl_ near him.

"Jess, this can't be true. I _KNOW_ it isn't true. Les has _never_ written him, she would have told me. She's mentioned him only once, maybe a year ago, something about you and him competing for something. _Jess?_"

But she had been tuned out. Jesse stood and left the house to walk home, ignoring Grace and Tom's pleas. He needed to think, and be alone. He didn't want to be seen.

Two hours later, Jesse sat by the creek where Leslie had almost drown. His belief that his best friend, _his girlfriend_, was guiltless waxed and waned. He simply didn't know what to accept as true, and each time he came to a conclusion, one way or the other, it reversed.

Then he had an idea. _If Leslie really was writing to him…and I have the key to their house…_

A quick sprint later and Jesse was fending off P.T. who was certain it was time for his walk. He ignored the dog's whimpering and went straight to Leslie's room, but stopped at the door, suddenly petrified. He knew that the end of their relationship might be just a few feet away. He started crying and sat on the floor by the door; it took him ten minutes to recover, and then he walked in.

Leslie was neither a devious nor secretive girl, Jesse knew, and this would help him. Before he started looking, he turned on the power to her laptop; that would need to be looked at, too. He grabbed a couple tissues, blew his nose, and started.

All Leslie's diaries were openly displayed on recessed shelves. He pulled out the ones covering the past two years and set them aside; he wanted to look for the more damning evidence first: Letters. An hour later, he had found two large stacks of them, all addressed to Leslie, but not one from J.B., or even overseas. Most of the return addresses were from her Aunt Joan. He then returned to the diaries. He knew Leslie wrote out everything she felt, and this, he judged, was the next best thing to a letter. Ignoring the guilt and shame he was feeling at invading her privacy, he sat on Leslie's bed and started reading.

Nothing. Not even a hint of her having feelings for anyone...other than him. He put those two diaries away and picked up one more, opening it randomly. It was her first diary. He was eleven and she twelve. As he paged through the days, weeks, and months, the only thing he consistently saw was, _I LOVE JESSE AARONS_. Looking all the way back, to one of the first entries Leslie had made, he saw her declaration there also. He closed the book and went to the computer, his heart thumping.

He performed a dozen searches on '_White_,' '_J.B.,_' 'JB,' and every variation he could think of. Then he opened Outlook and looked through every folder. Again, nothing.

Despairing and desperate, in spite of the fact that he hadn't found a thing, Jesse opened the internet browser and pulled-up the article again. He read and reread it, a dozen times, making sure he analyzed each word and sentence. _Nothing makes sense!_ Tired, choked-up, and with a migraine threatening, he stumbled to Leslie's bed and lay down.

The moment his head hit her pillow, and he smelled her against his face, he lost control and began sobbing again. This time it lasted much longer.

- - -

Jesse was glad it was Ellie who found him, sat with him, and comforted him. He had been unable to stop crying for a couple hours and it was nearing midnight: Leslie's pillow was soaked, his eyes were swollen and nose blocked up. Facing his parents this way would have been too humiliating to bear.

Ellie sister used Leslie's phone and called home that she had found him, but that it would be a while before they were home. _Yes_, she assured her mother, _he's fine, he just needed someone to talk to_.

"You had the whole family out looking for you, Jess," Ellie told him. Her voice held a touch of amusement. "The Jacobs and Keane's were looking, too. Poor Grace was almost hysterical." She gave a little laugh and rubbed her brother's back for a while as he calmed down. "What happened, Jess? Grace and Tom refused to tell us anything except that you left real upset with Leslie. Did she break-up with you?"

Jesse tried to talk, but couldn't say anything without breaking down again, so he pointed to Leslie's laptop. Ellie understood and returned to his side a couple minutes later.

"Jess, it's _not_ true," his sister stated definitively. "There's _no wa_y. She would never, _NEVER_ do something like that to you. My God, the girl _adores_ you, she _loves_ you. I've never seen two squirts like you guys so completely and hopelessly in love with each other. I'm surprised you two aren't…never mind, maybe you are. Jess, you gotta snap out of this. Is that why you're here?" He nodded, sitting up again, trying to compose himself, but he was too exhausted to rally much.

"Yeah," he finally managed to whisper, with a loud sniffle. "I needed to know."

"So you came over and started looking for evidence. Jeez, Jess, you _are_ a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" Ellie paused, then said with a touch of sarcasm, "It's obvious by the way you're acting that you found what you were looking for: All sorts of damning letters and pictures? _Hey!_ Bill and Judy would probably pay top-dollar hush-up money." She heard Jesse make a noise that sounded humorous so she thought she had succeeded in pointing out the obvious. Ellie _knew_ there was nothing, and that her brother was just confused and distraught by the story. She couldn't explain the photos in the article, but that would come, eventually.

Looking to Jesse, Ellie found him asleep on her shoulder and felt herself deeply moved. Gently, she lay him back down on Leslie's bed, threw a light blanket over him, turned off the lights, and called home again. A brief, non-detailed summary of what had happened followed, and then she said she and Jesse were spending the night at the Burke's house. If Mary Aarons found this at all odd, she did not say so. And she hoped her mother took care of any questions her father raised, though it was more likely he was in bed.

Ellie scavenged some blankets and a pillow and lay on the hardwood floor next to the bed, but sleep eluded her for quite a while. She thought about Toby, now almost halfway through boot camp, before turning her reflections back to her brother. She got up, returned to Leslie's laptop, and started looking at the article again. It took her over an hour, but by one in the morning, Ellie was fairly certain she had discovered an important clue. Feeling happy for her brother, she lay back down and fell immediately to sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Then why are you so sad looking?" Grace teased Jesse two days later. "I told you she would never do that to you."

"Yeah, I know," Jesse muttered guiltily, turning on his side and giving his friend an apologetic look. She playfully pushed him onto his back.

He and Grace had spent much of the day together, him telling how the seemingly damning story had, apparently, been fabricated by J.B.'s mother, of all people, (making sure Grace knew Ellie's role in the discovery), and she squealed happily that her two best friends were back together, or more accurately, had never been apart. One thing did concern her, however: Jesse said he didn't take Leslie's call the night before. When she pressed him for a good reason, he admitted he didn't have one, just that he was still bothered by some things. He told her that Ellie punched him when he wouldn't talk to Leslie, then took the phone herself, telling her what had happened. "She said that she'd call back in a couple days."

Jesse and Grace continued spending much of their free time together, sometimes at the Keane's, but more often going out as they had before the "Big scare," as Tom called it. On one of these many evenings, Mr. Jacobs took them to the Baxley Roller Skating Rink. Grace seemed to have a better time there than after anything else they had done together. Jesse had enjoyed the skating, too, particularly the comfort he felt when holding Grace's hand during the _couple's skating_ sessions. He felt he was finally able to throw off his once serious reservations about Grace becoming too attached to him. But Jesse had failed catch the signs Grace was displaying. As their weeks together passed and their time together lengthened, she was being swallowed up and charmed by the attention shown her.

One afternoon in late July, Jesse walked Grace home from the Keane's as a downpour threatened to drown them. He called his mother for a ride and waited on the Jacob's front porch with his friend. Their hands brushed against each other's, and Grace held on for a few seconds. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but Jesse had always thought it was Grace's way of saying thank you.

A couple days later, they lay talking in the Jacob's back yard, in the shade of a huge blue spruce, and on a soft bed of pine needles the tree provided. They had been talking for a couple hours, but now neither was saying much, instead, gazing curiously at the other. Grace would poke Jesse playfully when he was quiet like this and it brought back memories of how Leslie used to do the same thing. He lightheartedly fended off her attacks until she shocked him by rolling atop his chest, her face just inches from his, scrunched into a silly, but unreadable expression. For a second he thought she was going to kiss him. Jesse was sure that Grace knew it would be inappropriate.

But deep inside, Grace knew precisely what was happening to her. Jesse's draw was so powerful, so totally absorbing and appealing: To have one of her best friends show affection, appreciation, love; there simply was no way for her to turn it down. Every time his hand brushed against hers, she wanted to grab it and hold on; pull him closer. When he tickled her, what she wanted was far more shocking. She ignored the steady increase of emotional closeness she had been experiencing, convincing herself that some behavior was acceptable, but not always clearly defining the line between _friend_ and _more than friend_.

Jesse's concern about Grace's overly familiar behavior was distracted, quite literally, by a bell: The telephone rang. When Grace jumped up to get the cordless she had left on the porch, she found her legs were a bit wobbly.

"It's Ellie, Jess," she called out, but Jesse was right behind her and took the phone, said "Yes," and hung up.

"I gotta go," was all he said, and Grace saw that Jesse had judged her actions correctly: She had pushed the limit and had to back off.

It was the end of the strangest day Grace had ever spent with Jesse Aarons. She went to bed that evening denying the guilt building in her over her actions that day. She ignored her conscience's warning of the immoral aspects of her desires, and she consciously buried the guilt from her still tingling physical reactions to being so close to Jesse. Unfamiliar with arousal, all Grace understood about what was happening to her was that she felt wonderful with Jesse Aarons, more wonderful than with anyone else she had ever known.

- - -

As the final days of July approached, and Leslie's fifth week of the tour ended, Jesse heard from her that they would be returning at the end of the first week in August, just under two weeks away. Jesse was elated. Their conversations since the trauma of the article had become shorter and shorter, and Jesse knew something was wrong, but Leslie skillfully changed topics or flat-out refused to talk about certain things. He finally gave up. Ending this last call, he mentioned that he was _going out with Grace the next day_, and thought nothing of it. Both he and Leslie had already talked about the situation and agreed that as long as Grace seemed to be improving, he should keep up what he was doing. But this time Leslie gave him a terse good night wish that left him wondering what he had done wrong.

The following evening, Ellie dropped Jesse off at the Jacobs' house; he and Grace were going to walk to the local cinema for the latest Jackie Chan movie. Jesse had mentioned to his sister Grace's behavior in their back yard and asked for her opinion.

"Be careful, Jess," was all she said, and then drove off.

_Thanks_.

Tom was at Lisa's house and Mr. Jacobs answered the door when the bell rung. Grace appeared a minute later and they left for the show, here father watched as they walked off together. He saw Grace's hand playfully take Jesse's. He knew his daughter, and had been seeing changes in her the past few weeks; it made him uneasy. But he also had a Knights of Columbus dinner and meeting to attend and put the matter behind him, for the time being. He would talk to Grace in the morning, wishing now, more than ever, his wife was still alive.

Ten minutes later, Jesse and Grace reached the cinema, only to find it closed by the Health Department. This really wasn't much of a surprise to them. Rats were always scurrying about outside (and often inside) the building.

"So much for Jackie Chan. Any ideas?" Jesse asked.

Grace shrugged. "Walking is always good." Jesse agreed, but they first headed back to Grace's house so she could change her shoes: He waited on the porch step while Grace did the switch. When she came back out, she plopped onto the step next to Jesse, sighing heavily, instead of leading them to the sidewalk.

Jesse had no trouble conversing with Grace when they walked, but sitting often made him fidgety and nervous. After a minute of silence that seemed like an hour, Jesse asked Grace how she was enjoying the summer.

"Summer's been great…especially lately," she answered softly, embarrassedly. Jesse noticed that her former trepidation when speaking about the approaching school year was finally gone. He missed the more significant signal.

"That's good. Um…so…you hear anything from Evan lately?" he asked unwisely.

"God, Jesse, you can be such a _jerk_ at times, you know that? Stop sending boys my way, ok?"

Hands shooting up in surrender, Jesse apologized and gave her a brief, one-arm hug. A few seconds later, she reached over and rested her hand on his shoulder.

Jesse froze, _finally_ seeing what was happening. _Especially lately,…_She had said._ Why do these things always happen between the Jacobs and me?_

Jesse shook his head and put his hands to his face. He felt Grace shift slightly and knew she'd turned towards him.

"Jess?" she asked softly.

_Exactly like Les does when she's worried about me._

His reply, "Yeah," came out as a whisper.

"What's wrong, Jess?"

_Massive confusion!_ "Nothing…and everything." It was an amazingly vague _AND_ precise answer. But then Grace made things a bit more complicated by putting her arm around his waist.

"Jess?" Grace again said softly. He could tell her face was near. "What is it, Jess? I've never seen you this way. Did something else happen with Les?" Jesse prayed he was imagining a hint of hope in Grace's question.

_No!_ _Something has happened...is happening...with you._

"No, Gracie, not with _Les_." It was the first time Jesse used his friend's nickname, and he hoped she understood whom he was referring to.

She moved her arm, and in a shockingly caring way, took his right hand from his face and entwined the fingers of both her hands with his. "Jess, you can talk to me about it, if you think it would help."

He said nothing, but Grace knew what it was and had the presence of mind and fortitude to make the only choice she could. But it was very, very difficult.

"Jess," she started again, very quietly, her voice shaking. "I think…it's not good…it's hard for friends like us…to be like this…so close."

Not quite understanding his friend's comments, he asked her to repeat what she had said.

"I said," Grace put an arm on Jesse's shoulder, touching his cheek. "I said, we're getting…too close. You and me. This isn't…a good idea." And then, just when Jesse was starting to believe she had realized what was happening and would back off, _Grace_ pulled _him_ into a kiss.

_She doesn't kiss like Leslie_, was Jesse's first thought. He could tell she kissed more like _he_ had the first few times stumbling around with Leslie. But in the five or six seconds their lips were together, Jesse wondered far more about what would happen _after_ than _during_ the touch. And he knew he should have broke the kiss off sooner.

_Tom's going to kill me…_

Then Grace moved her head to the side and buried her face in the crook of Jesse's neck, holding him tightly. He reciprocated and wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time in weeks, Grace came fully face-to-face with her weakness.

"I'm so sorry, Jesse," she started, choking back tears. "Even if you _were_ interested this wouldn't work. I appreciate all you're doing for me, but it isn't the answer."

"_Huh?_"

"_Jess!_ Do you _ever_ listen? I said 'this won't work.' We both know it. I mean, I like you and all, a lot, but it can't be like this…romantically."

Jesse actually laughed. "_You_ kissed _me_, Grace, remember!"

Grace looked down and nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. With shame clear in her voice, she went on. "I see Les and Lisa and Carol…I wanted to feel the same way." Jesse felt her tears landing on his shoulder.

"Oh…well, you're not a bad kisser," Jesse said honestly, and not knowing why he was babbling on so, "but you need to loosen up more. A kiss should be soft, and…well, never mind."

Now Grace burst into laughter she had, just seconds ago, thought she might never be able to do again. "Oh, Jess, that sounds exactly like something Les said to you."

"It was," he admitted. "Grace, it'll happen to you one day. I promise."

Grace sighed and composed herself. "I _really_ _am_ sorry, Jess, about the kiss; about everything. I kinda realized what was happening a few days ago, and I...I guess I wanted to know what it was like, to be kissed the way you kiss Les. Pretty horrible, aren't I?"

"_No_, you are _not_." _And it's not like I made any effort to stop you._ "Maybe this whole thing this summer was a bad idea."

"Jess, can we still be friends?" Grace pleaded, suddenly frightened by the finality in Jesse's voice. "I love our walks and talking with you; they've saved me this summer, and I don't want our friendship to end."

Jesse nodded, wondering just how honest his acceptance of Grace's statement was. He doubted if they could be close again; certainly not physically.

The final break-up came after they sat together a few more minutes, neither speaking, Grace ashamed, both _humbled_, but Jesse the more so. He should have seen this coming.

_Maybe I did, and just wanted Grace to be happy…_

Eventually, Jesse said he had to call Ellie for a ride and they broke apart. It was a heart-wrenching and bitterly guilt-ridden separation for Grace. Both silently felt it, and Jesse found himself battling his emotions, again. Grace refused to look at him so he couldn't judge her thoughts, but he was quite certain, in fact, he _knew_, much of the trust and friendship of his second best friend was slipping away, and it was _his_ fault.

_I was supposed to be taking care of her._

- - - - - - - - - - -

The following morning, Jesse waited for his siblings to finish breakfast before going into the kitchen to speak with his mother. She watched him carefully, well familiar with her son's look of emotional pain, a look absent for over a year. And she had been able to piece together what had been happening; an early morning call from Mr. Jacobs confirmed it. Mary felt a vile, bitter mixture of disappointment and sympathy for her son, but made no attempt, yet, to see if he wanted to talk about it. She would wait. That whatever had happened between Grace and Jesse was over had to be enough for now, for her.

Jesse walked up to his mother and asked if she would make an appointment for him with Dr. Carlson, as soon as possible. Then he walked outside to do his chores, never hearing the answer.

"Of course, Jess."


	40. Part 5: The Confessions

**A Life Rescued**  
**Chapter 40 – The Confessions**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_WARNING: This chapter contains some naughty language near the beginning. If you think you might be traumatized, please cover your ears while reading the offending passage. _:-)

Judy Burke looked at her watch and knew it was too late for what she was going to do, but neither did she give a damn. Apathy had become something of a permanent fixture in her psyche over the past few weeks and she found the new habit difficult to shake. And she was angry: angry with her husband, angry with her daughter, and angry with herself. The only person lucky enough to escape her wrath was Jimmy, but even he noticed the tension in the car and was difficult to calm. Fortunately he had slept the last couple hours and was spared the worst of the vicious dialog being snarled between his sister and mother, both of whom were close to apoplexy.

Twice since Staunton, Judy had to pull over and physically drag Leslie from the car so she would not wake up the child with her screaming. The second time they had to stop, Judy did something she had never done before, she slapped her daughter. And it was not a warning tap, either. That finally ended the last tirade, just forty minutes from home. Since that time, her daughter had not spoken a word, had not cried, had not moved, as far as Judy could tell. In fact, the only way she knew Leslie was alive was hearing her breathe.

And Jimmy slept on.

For two years, two difficult, trying years, Judy had worked to rebuild the relationship with her daughter she had spent the earlier two damaging. It had been a four year rollercoaster, and they had almost reached rock-bottom after these past few weeks. Almost. Judy knew that if the two of them did not arrive at an understanding, and very soon, there would be dire consequences. She tried to reason through and understand her daughter's rebellious behavior, but whenever she thought she had the answer, Leslie would go off and do something so outrageous as to defy belief. She had tried to justify the behavior by attributing it to hormones, but PMS for six straight weeks was a little hard to swallow.

Judy fiddled with her cell phone to call ahead and nearly killed the three of them trying to dial in the dark. It was the first time she heard Leslie say anything in a half-hour, but she had to admit that the fourteen year old's evaluation of her near fatal mistake was accurate, if crude. A hand reached over and yanked the phone away.

"_WELL?!_ _What's the fucking number, mother?_" Leslie snapped when Judy didn't give her the number she obviously wanted dialed.

"You know it: the Aarons'."

Leslie dialed and handed the phone back. On the forth ring, Mary Aarons answered saying, "If this is Ellie Aarons you're life is over." She sounded serious, and sleepy.

"Mare, it's me, Judy."

"Huh? _Judy_…_Burke_?" There was a pause and Judy could hear Mary getting up from her squeaky bed. "Just a second." Another unidentifiable sound which she assumed was her friend putting on a robe and leaving the room. In the background she could hear Jack's not-so-soft snoring fade away and a door close.

A slightly less sleepy voice returned. "Hi, you're up late, or early. It must be past four in the morning there. Is something wrong?"

"It's half-past eleven, we're about ten miles outside of town."

"What town?"

"Our town, Lark Creek. Mare, I have Leslie and Jimmy and we need a place to sleep. Would you mind?"

Little of what Mary Aarons was hearing made sense. She knew the Burke's were in Europe another ten or eleven days. _And why does she want a place to stay?_

"Jude, sorry, I'm half asleep. Did you say you're outside of Lark Creek? _Our_ Lark Creek?"

"Yes, about ten miles out. Mare, I need to talk to you, right away, and if I keep Leslie from Jess another thirty minutes she'll probably kill me. I know I'm not making sense…_please?_"

Mary was able to begin making some sense of her friend's tone of voice, and it woke her up quickly. "Sure, of course you can stay, but why don't you…never mind. I'll get Jess up and meet you out front."

"Thanks, Mare. See you soon."

Ten minutes later, mother and son stood on the porch waiting for their unexpected guests. Jesse was more awake than his mother, but she had just poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee which he knew would rapidly revive her. When he looked her way, Jesse was caught off-guard by his mother's severe air. The question she asked next was not particularly friendly, either.

"Have you decided what you're going to tell Les?"

"No. I thought I'd have more than a day to put together an insanity defense."

His mother give him a very slight hint of a smile.

"Mom, I don't know what to do," he admitted, honestly, worried.

"Jess, the answer to that is the answer to this question: What happened between you and Grace?"

"Nothing," he mumbled defiantly.

"Nothing? Oh, I see. I'm sure Gracie feels that way, too. Maybe we should call her and invite her over. I'm sure she'd love to see Leslie _and_ you. Maybe Tom would like to talk to you in person. Hmm?" Mary was becoming so agitated her coffee was splashing on Jesse, but he didn't move.

"_Cut it out, Mom! I know I screwed-up. I know I hurt Grace real bad. I know Tom's gonna beat the crap outta me the next time he sees me. I know Les is probably never going to talk to me after I tell her what happened. I know all that, ok? Just…just…lay off me for a while, will ya? I hate myself enough as it is._" Jesse rubbed his face and walked to the porch swing, he considered sitting but it brought back too many memories of the girl who was probably about to dump him. One memory in particular hurt: The first time he kissed her.

_Kinda fucked that first kiss memory for Grace, didn't I?_

Then he saw the lights. Thirty seconds later he was at the point he had been dreaming about for six weeks, and dreading for two days. Leslie opened the back door and left the car without a word. It was obvious she was more than a little upset about something. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her hair was dirty and unkempt, her clothes obviously hadn't been changed for a while, but the two most obvious signs of an unhappy person were the dried tear streaks and an angry welt on her left cheek in the shape of a hand. Holding only her carry-on, she took a couple seconds to breathe deeply. Then she looked up.

When Mary saw Leslie, it told her more about her friend's mysterious call and request than anything else. Leslie was almost always well groomed and seldom cried. But it was the near-frantic look on her face that scared Mary, and she went immediately to the driver's door as Leslie walked wordlessly toward her son. Reaching the door, Mary saw her friend had just made it there safely, she appeared asleep on the wheel. Then she saw she was crying. She tapped the window.

"Jude, unlock the door."

- - -

A few feet away, a very different reunion was taking place. Leslie had met Jesse and silently taken his hand, guiding him into his own house. She stumbled in obvious exhaustion. By the time they had reached the couch in the family room, Jesse could hear she had started crying quietly. They sat, and Leslie turned and wrapped her arms around Jesse's neck. He wished she hadn't done it, he still hadn't resolved the disgust he felt, or how to punish himself for what he'd done to Grace, and this wasn't going to help. But he put his arms around her, moved them both into a more comfortable position, and held her, waiting. It didn't take long.

"Jess, I'm so, so sorry. I missed you. Horrible things have happened and I'm to blame."

Leslie carried on like this for a couple minutes, raising more questions in Jesse's mind than answering. It was obvious she was about to crash. She could barely keep her eyes open, not much of what she was saying made sense, and by her odor, Jesse figured his earlier assessment of her not having bathed for a couple days was probably a little conservative. Leslie was almost babbling now, and Jesse just tried to quiet her and get her to sleep. In a couple more minutes he felt her relax in his arms and heard her breathing deepen.

About the same time, Jesse saw Ellie, having returned from her late shift, carry a sleeping Jimmy Burke inside and place him in Brian's playpen. She gave her brother a worried look. A minute later, his mother was helping Judy in and both collapsed on the opposite couch.

Mary looked at her son and he saw something frightening in her expression, but she spoke before he could ask what was wrong. "Jesse, you and your sister take Les up to your room, she can stay with you tonight. Behave yourself."

Ellie and Jesse looked at each other as if they had been shocked with a cattle prod, then they looked to make sure it was their mother before them, but she had already turned away and was talking with Judy, quietly, and they knew she didn't want to be disturbed.

Ellie walked to her brother and put her mouth to his ear. "So, my little brother get's lucky tonight, and with Mom's blessing. I won't forget _this_ any time soon."

Jesse knew she was joking, but the remark still bothered him.

Together, on either side of her, they carried Leslie upstairs and to Jesse's room. Ellie's comments on the way dealt more with her own offended olfactory nerves, and Jesse silently agreed. To their surprise, Leslie did, too, and was able to walk the last couple steps.

"Where am I? Oh, thanks, Jess, you get the couch tonight?" she mumbled sleepily. Ellie coughed. "God I stink. Jess, can I have a towel and washcloth and use the shower? I don't think I could sleep with myself tonight."

Ellie smirked and left to get the items. Jesse handed Leslie her carry-on, but was having trouble looking her in the eyes.

"Jess, do you have a shirt I can use?"

"Yeah, um, button or pullover?"

"Pullover. Thanks."

She took the shirt and her bag, met Ellie holding the towel in the hallway, and disappeared into the bathroom. Jesse was watching from his bedroom door as she vanished and then noticed Ellie wink impertinently at him. He gave her a long suffering look and motioned for her to come in his room.

Ellie smiled. "Need some pointers, _little bro_?"

"If I did, I wouldn't come to you, _big sis_." They both laughed.

"Ell, do you know what's happening?"

"Uh, not much…" she hedged.

"_Well?_" Jesse prompted when Ellie remained silent. "Come on, I don't know anything!"

His sister looked like she desperately wanted to give a rude response to that statement. Then she frowned.

"I didn't hear much, Jess, but…it looks like Bill and Judy are separating."

"'_Separating?_'" he shot back incredulously. "As in…getting a divorce? Impossible!"

Ellie shrugged. "I heard Judy tell Mom something about she having had enough of him ruining her life, and that she, Leslie, and Jimmy just up and left a few days ago. Sometimes these things blow over. It may all be because Judy didn't want to go and she'll think better of it when she's rested." They heard the shower shut off and Ellie made to leave. "So, Jess…do you _need_ anything?"

"Huh?"

"You know…_protection_." Laughing, Ellie ducked as Jesse threw a pillow her way. As she walked to her room, Jesse could hear her humming the tune of a dirty song she used to sing. As irritated as he was with her, he had to laugh: They had developed a very interesting relationship over the summer.

Leslie returned a couple minutes later licking her teeth and saying how good it felt to be clean again. Jesse smiled and then looked up. It had been a year since he'd seen her in night clothes and he gave her a tired but friendly smile. She bent over and kissed his cheek.

"We need to talk tomorrow, Jess, I'm too tired now." The comment was interrupted by a huge yawn and she climbed into his bed. "I'm so glad to be home." It came out slurred and Jesse could tell she was already partly asleep. He walked over to the door and turned off the light. And stood there not knowing what to do; he hadn't told her they were going to share the room.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"What're you doing?"

"Mom, um, my Mom and yours said we could sleep together, um, you know, share the room tonight."

"_Yeah, right_," she said with a disbelieving laugh.

"I'm not kidding. I just didn't want to scare you."

"_You're serious?_" Leslie suddenly sounded fully awake.

Jesse stepped over to the bed, careful to leave his door ajar. "Yeah. Move over." At that point, Jess was too stressed to care if his mother had told him to share the _room_ or share the _bed_. He opted the latter.

Leslie scooted over and held the covers up. Jesse, slow and hesitant, got in with her. He did not feel in the least bit turned-on by their situation; in fact, guilt was directing his thoughts more towards Grace. He turned on his side, facing Leslie's back, and felt their feet touch. Leslie shifted her body back a bit, and Jesse, for comfort more than anything else, slipped one arm under Leslie's neck and the other over her waist and pulled their bodies together in a classic spooning position. The scent of his best friend, last noticed on her pillow a couple weeks earlier, flooded his senses and calmed his anxiety. He fell asleep in seconds.

Leslie, though a little shocked by the closeness of Jesse's embrace, felt a similar calm wash over her. As she drifted back to sleep, she took Jesse's left arm, pulling it tightly to her chest, she clung to it for her own comfort, for she had plenty to be anxious about, too.

- - -

May was sleeping over at a friend's house, and after calming Judy, Mary moved her and Jimmy into the empty room and headed back to bed. Her friend's story troubled her deeply, and surprised her, too, but then everything Judy had said and done that evening was out of character for her. The request that Leslie stay with Jesse was not the least of her surprises, but when Judy explained her reasoning, Mary accepted it. She walked to Jesse's room after hugging Judy goodnight and promising they would talk again when she was more rested. His door was ajar, and that answered any lingering concerns she harbored about her son and his girlfriend sleeping together.

Looking inside Jesse's room, Mary could see by the moonlight shining through the windows that both kids were sleeping soundly. She noted her son's liberal interpretation of the sleeping arrangements. Their closeness, she was surprised to note, did not concern her, even when she saw the location of her son's arm as Leslie clung to it. She smiled, and shaking her head returned to her room. Jack mumbled some unintelligible comment when she sat on the squeaky bed, but went right back to sleep.

It was just after three in the morning.

- - - - - - - - - - -

More than anything said or done between Jesse and herself, Grace Jacobs greatest fear was not for the appropriateness of her behavior, or Jesse's, but that her friendship with him and Leslie would suffer from the actions of the past few weeks. She treasured both friendships and could not comprehend how she had not been able to see she was jeopardizing the relationships. Jesse had truly saved her that summer, and even though the methods had proven foolish (to the point of stupidity) she was not willing to let it destroy them. The morning after their 'break-up,' Grace began her quest to understand exactly what had happened by looking to Barb Keane for answers. She had come to see the girl as something of a kindred spirit in many ways, but knew it would be very difficult to move past what she had, for so long, believed to be immoral behavior by her entire family. Leslie had tried to explain the situation to her, and before the last couple weeks Grace was beginning to wonder if her reticence had been excessive.

Arriving at the Keane house mid-morning, two days after she last saw Jesse, Grace rang the bell and waited. Mrs. Keane answered the door and invited Grace to sit in the lounge while she went outside to find her middle daughter. That in itself told her what the girls were doing outside and she immediately felt uncomfortable. Seconds later, Barb came in wearing a short terrycloth robe.

"Hey! What's up? The pool's closed today for…"

"Yeah, I know why. Can we talk?"

Barb saw something was wrong and excused herself to get dressed, returning shortly wearing only gym shorts and a tank top that obviously had nothing underneath. Grace managed to suppress her annoyance at her friend's lack of modesty as she sat on the couch with her.

"Jess?" Barb asked, cringing a little.

"How'd you guess?" Grace replied bitterly.

A twinge of guilt showed on the older girl's face, Grace noticed. _Good!_ The younger girl had had suspicions all summer, and even before, that Barb was subtly encouraging her to get closer to Jesse Aarons.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

"Maybe. I want to ask you a question first. Did you put Jess up to hanging around with me this summer?"

"Yes."

Grace was flabbergasted. _Yes? YES? That's all she has to say?_ Feeling tears burning her eyes, Grace wanted to leave that moment, but she couldn't.

"Why?" She had wanted to say more than one word, but it was all that came out.

"Gracie, last spring you told me you liked Jess. Remember?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"And at the end of last school year you were miserable because he's heading off to high school with us, right?"

"Yeah, but…"

"And at the party here over Memorial Day weekend you said you would do anything to have someone like Jess as your best friend, didn't you?"

Grace couldn't even answer, she just nodded.

"Gracie, all I did was gently point Jess in your direction, and it wasn't so he could seduce you. Now, what happened between you two?"

She told Barb everything, and felt sicker with every story.

"Sorry, Gracie, I thought Jess would have been nicer than _that_."

"Huh? What did Jess do? _I_ kissed _him_. _I_ was the one in fantasy land," she spat out bitterly.

Barb sighed and sat back on the couch, thinking. Grace was again fighting the urge to leave. All she was seeing in Barb Keane was a meddlesome busybody who had ruined her summer, and possibly ruined the relationship between three great friends.

"How am I ever going to be able to face Les again? She's going to think I tried to move in on Jess the moment she left town!"

"I'll talk to her as soon as she gets back. And I need to talk to Jess, too. I didn't intend anything like this to happen, honest, Gracie."

The dam finally burst: "Yeah? _Well it did, didn't it?_ Just like with your sisters and Tommy last year. Your whole family lives a daydream thinking their actions don't bother other people."

Barb sat up, stung, hurt. "_That's not fair, Grace!_ In all the years we've been…_sunbathing_, that was the only time anything like that's happened."

"Oh, really?"

"_Yes!_"

"Then how did my brother get a camera full of pictures of you and your sisters? How did Fulcher or Manning?"

Barb jumped up, her eyes wide and her face white. "Tom? When?"

"Last September. He showed them to Jesse and it nearly ruined their friendship."

Barb suddenly put the old scattered clues together. "That's why he and Tom didn't talk to each other most of…"

"_YES!_ And do you know Jesse has an eid…eyed… crap, what's it called? A photographic memory? He may have those images in his head the rest of his life."

"We're not ashamed of our bodies, Grace, and I didn't force Tom _or_ Jess to look at us, did I?" she shot back, but the delivery was not particularly passionate or convincing.

Grace jumped up and threw her hands into the air in frustration. "I'm leaving. Maybe you're right about what you tried to do for me. I don't know any more."

"Grace, wait, please!" Barb said sincerely, but Grace just shook her head and walked out. But before closing the door she turned back.

"I thought you were my friend. I was willing to put up with…_that stuff you and your sisters do_, but friends don't hurt each other."

She slammed the door as she left, but felt little better. _Had the entire summer been one huge accident? One enormous misunderstanding?_

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jesse was having a wonderful dream, flying through the clouds with Leslie, across the ocean, visiting all the countries of Europe with her, and then taking off to start again. The dream was so real he could smell her, even as the clouds flew by, tickling his nose. He brushed the cloud away and found himself with a hand full of hair.

_Leslie's hair?_

Everything came rushing back to him from the night before and he took his face out of the pillow to see his best friend asleep next to him. He started to get out of bed, but realizing he may never have this opportunity again, stayed, moving closer and wishing she would sleep for hours longer so he could lay with her.

Jesse's dream came true, in part, Leslie did sleep four more hours, but his bladder could not. Once he was up, the magic of the night was gone and he remembered everything from the past few days. He peed, brushed his teeth, and went downstairs.

The only noise came from Joyce Ann and Brian playing with blocks while Sesame Street showed quietly on the television. Both kids waved at their brother and went back to the blocks. The kitchen was empty. Jesse looked out back and saw his father's pickup gone. He was glad about that.

"Joyce Ann, where's Mom?"

"She went to Ms. Judy's house with Jimmy. Said she'd be back in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Joycey."

Jesse returned to the kitchen and got a bowl of cereal, still trying to make sense out of everything that had happened over the past ten hours. The Burke's separating? _That_ was impossible. And how would it affect Leslie and him if it was true? And why didn't Leslie say anything about it last night? The questions lurked around Jesse's brain until he heard the front door open and his mother talking to Jimmy; he could tell she was alone. Her voice came out of the front hallway a second later. "Jesse, are you up? Would you grab the bag out front and take it up to May's room?"

"Yeah," he replied, jumping up and making the delivery. When he went in May's room he saw Mrs. Burke wasn't there.

More questions…

"Mom, what's going on? Les was too tired to tell me anything last night. Where's Mr. Burke?"

Mary Aarons ignored her son for a few seconds, making noises as if she was putting things away. She needed to think and choose her words carefully. Then she answered.

"Jess, is Leslie still sleeping?"

Jesse appeared in the kitchen. "Yeah, I've never seen her so exhausted. Mom, this isn't all because of me…and Grace, is it?"

"No, Jess. I don't think any of the Burkes know about that. Let's go out to the porch to talk."

Pouring a cup of coffee, Mary checked in on her two youngest and then walked out front to speak with her son.

"Jess, I don't have the whole story yet, but not much went well with the tour this time…"

"_Duh! That was obvious before they left_," Jesse muttered, more to himself than his mother.

"Exactly. Judy told me Bill has a tendency to plan that way and it drives her crazy. So, like you said, before they even left they were at each other's throat. After six weeks of it she had had enough and just left."

Jesse looked askance at his mother, as if saying, _who are you trying to kid? There's a whole lot more going on than that!_ And Mary knew that was exactly what her son was thinking.

"Yes, Jess, there is more. I can tell you some, but Leslie will have to fill in some things for you, too."

Mary Aarons, like her husband, regarded eye contact as sacred when speaking to someone about an important subject, and Jesse saw his mother was not looking at him with her last remark.

"What _can_ you tell me, Mom? Is it about the Burke's separating?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ellie told me she heard Judy…um, Mrs. Burke say they were separating."

Mary sat, stunned, trying to understand what her son was saying. Then she knew.

"No, Jess, they aren't separating. Ellie misunderstood something Judy was telling me, that's all."

Jesse was visibly relieved by this news, so much so that he didn't press his mother about the true topic that Ellie had misinterpreted. Mary was happy about that and quickly changed the subject.

"There were some other problems…with Les…on the trip, and we will be making some changes around here for the next few days, at least. But we can talk…"

Jesse interrupted. "What kind of changes? Does it have to do with Les?"

"We will talk about that tonight with your father."

"But…"

"_Jesse Oliver, enough!_ I said we will discuss it later. Right now I want you to take these things up to May's room, change her bedding, clean the bathroom…"

The list went on and on and Jesse had the vague notion he was being punished, even though his mother never said that in so many words. She ended her instructions by telling him to bring Leslie down as soon as she woke up. Confused, Jesse set off with his list of chores and spent the rest of the morning moving, cleaning, and wondering what was going on.

Shortly before noon, Jesse heard movement in his room and went to check on Leslie, remembering at the last second to knock before entering. He saw her sitting on the edge of the bed looking sleepy, but much more rested than half a day earlier. He told her that she had clothes in May's room and that she was to get dressed and come down to the kitchen straight away. If the directions seemed at all odd to her she gave no indication.

Five minutes later, Leslie found Jesse and his mother at the kitchen table waiting for her with a plate of celery and peanut butter, her usual breakfast. Jesse gave her a shy smile as she sat. Then they received their 'orders' for the rest of the day from Mrs. Aarons.

"Jess, Les, this won't make a lot of sense at first, but I…that is Judy and I, want you both to get out of here the rest of the day. Together. Go up to the Boone land or into town, we don't really care. What Judy and I _do_ want is for you two to get settled what needs to be settled between you. When you get back tonight you can let us know what the plan is."

Neither adolescent understood, at first, what was being asked of them, that is until Mrs. Aarons said, "…get settled what needs to be settled between you." Then they both knew what they had to do.

"I've packed lunches. Les, you are not to go to your house before eight this evening, do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am. But why…"

"Just do it, young lady. Now I want both of you out of this house in ten minutes. And Jess," she finished sternly, "no repeats of your last outing together. Understood?"

"Yes, Mom," Jesse was barely able to say, blushing brightly. He and Leslie then ran upstairs to get ready.

- - -

In the allotted time, Jesse and Leslie changed, gathered a few things and their food, and headed down the path to the Boone land. Neither said more than a word or two while preparing themselves, and on the trail few more were spoken until they reached the end of the path where the creek split into two branches around a knoll. Jesse stopped and flung his backpack off, Leslie did likewise. For an uncomfortable minute they stood trying to avoid the other's eyes, eventually Jesse spoke, having thought how he wanted to bring up the past few weeks with Grace. He started by pointing to a log for them to sit on. He led, Leslie followed.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Jesse told his best friend what had happened between him and Grace. He felt filthy and guiltier with each fact and story. He said he had honestly tried to just be there for her, but that he could now see how he had been leading her on. In every way he took the blame for all that had happened. Even the kiss he blamed on himself, saying it was his responsibility to make sure she didn't reach that point. He deeply appreciated Leslie not interrupting him through the confession, but he was becoming immeasurably curious, as his story unfolded, about her demeanor. To put it succinctly, she look more relieved than anything. And when he was done, she surprised him and pulled him into a long, tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, Les. I know you hate me now and I understand why." Then thinking of the same words Grace had said a few days earlier, her added, "We can still be friends, can't we? Please."

A long pause followed, during which Jesse's heart sank and he felt himself getting choked-up, and then Leslie let him go and sat back so he could see her.

"Jesse Aarons, we will _never_ be _just_ friends. Do you understand me?" She saw he didn't, as his lip began to quiver, and continued. "It's not up to me to make that decision, Jess, it's up to you. I need to tell you something, too."

Looking a bit like an abandoned puppy, Jesse nodded, still not understanding Leslie's statement.

"Jess, that story about J.B. and me we talked about, I said it wasn't true but, I lied…a little. There _was_ some truth behind it." Leslie looked at Jesse again and saw confusion. She continued. "J.B. and I went out almost every night we were together and he wasn't signing. I don't know, maybe five or six times. He took me to dinner and sightseeing, that sort of thing. I was so damn sick of Bill and Judy fighting, I had to get out, but I didn't know his mother would do what she did. The pictures were real, I got a little carried away one evening when I drank some of his wine…well, a lot of it."

"But…did you stop going out?"

Leslie shook her head. "Jess, my _mother_," she almost spit out the designation, "began to get on my case about me not acting appropriately and everything went to hell. The next day I was so angry I hung around with J.B. all day, mostly at a little bookstore in Hamburg, making sure my mother saw exactly what I thought of her rules. I really was a bitch to her. After a couple days of all the attention I was giving him, J.B. began to think I really _was_ interested in him and Mom caught us, uh, _me_, getting a little too friendly with him." Seeing Jesse's face fall again, Leslie quickly clarified. "Don't worry, Jess, you still have the record of getting furthest with me." She finished with a nervous giggle and pointed haltingly at her chest.

"The next day…"

"_Wait!_" Jesse interrupted, startling the girl. He was curious, and wanted clarification about _exactly_ what Leslie and J.B. had done together. _Did she kiss him like she kisses me?_ He saw that his silent question was understood.

"No, Jess, really, nothing, uh, deep…and on the lips only a couple times. Mostly I hung on him, held his hand some. Everything was for my parents, not J.B.."

The words stung Jesse deeply, even though he had been expecting much of what she said. Again he found himself fighting tears, but he wasn't certain if they were from anger or disappointment. He nodded and Leslie continued.

"The next day we were on a plane home, but it took two days because of the war. We had almost nothing in the way of clothes, as you noticed last night. Mom didn't even tell Dad we were leaving, she just left a note and turned off her cell. We flew from Munich to Rome, to Lisbon, to London, then Dulles. Mom rented a car and here we are."

"Why did you guys come to our house last night?"

"A couple reasons. Mom was _very_ upset, mostly with me. I'd been horrible to her, I mean, really, really horrible. I acted like a complete bitch because they took me away from you, and if I couldn't be happy I wasn't going to let them be happy. It worked, except they still wouldn't let me go home. Anyway, Mom and I yelled and fought the whole way home. I got to use some colorful language; Tommy would be proud of me."

Jesse laughed, trying to imaging Leslie cursing. She seemed to appreciate his amusement.

"I think she just wanted us to be together, probably to calm me down. This didn't work." Leslie pointed to the nearly invisible spot on her cheek where her mother had struck her the night before. "She told your mother that we could sleep together," Leslie added with a chuckle, "and she knew I was in no shape to do anything but sleep; she was right."

Jesse simply nodded. "You said there were two reasons, what was the other?"

"As soon as we arrived at Dulles, Mom turned on her cell and started receiving some text messages from our security system that our house had been broken into a couple weeks ago…"

Jesse froze. When he went in the house looking for _evidence_ he had forgotten about the silent alarm. But, then why didn't the police…?

"…When Brinks couldn't reach us, they called your house because your parents are listed as emergency contacts, and talked to Ellie. I guess that's how she found you. But we didn't discover _that_ until we had already arrived at your house last night."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have gone in, I was so…"

"Jess, don't, please. It sounds like we both did a bunch of stupid things the past few weeks."

Leslie sighed and Jesse noticed her wipe her cheeks dry. He felt an uncomfortable emptiness in his chest, but he wasn't angry or upset, he just felt like a little bit of Leslie had been taken from him. And he now understood why she had said it would be up to him if they remained friends. She judged her actions more harshly than he did his. But he also felt the need to say more.

"I missed you so much, Les. Being with Grace made it bearable, but I feel like I used her."

"No more than me using J.B.," she shot back, "and probably less: You did what you did out of friendship; I did what I did out of anger, to intentionally hurt people." She sat silently for a minute constructing a thought. "Twice I almost ran away and flew home on my own, but I was always with Jimmy when my parents were away. I probably couldn't have gotten on a plane anyway…"

"I wish you had," said Jesse quietly.

"So, what do you want to do? About us, I mean."

"Do you, um, still…love me?" asked Jesse quietly. He was relieved to see Leslie nod her head. "I still love you, Les, I just feel so horrible."

"I know exactly what you mean. And I still love you…_heaps_." Both smiled. "I don't want us to change, Jess. Can we…can we still…?"

Jesse smiled even wider, knowing exactly what it was his friend was asking. _Can we still kiss and hold each other and be best friends?_

"Yes," he said, confidently, definitively. "We have to. Friends like us gotta work things out, right?"

Leslie finally looked up again, the earlier fear in her face had been replaced by a look of hope, and relief. Then she leaned over and gave Jesse the kiss she had been wanting to for weeks, but it was short and still felt wrong, so she stopped.

"Jess, let's go talk to Grace…what's wrong?"

"I – I don't think I can yet."

"Don't be a wimp, Jess. We have six more hours before we can go home. Let's go into town and see people; we can use my parent's bikes."

And just like that, Jesse saw, Leslie was back. It wasn't _quite_ the same, almost, but not quite, but it would get better, he knew. The only lingering issue for him was Grace and Tom, and whether they would still want them as friends. Here, Jesse was not so optimistic.

An hour later they had reached the far side of Lark Creek and the Jacobs' street, stopping a few houses away. Jesse gave Leslie a pleading look, but she just stuck out her tongue and dismounted to walk the final hundred yards. For Jesse, the distance passed far too rapidly and they were at the door before he could think of another excuse to run away. Leslie rang the bell and Jesse stood back a little, wary for Tom as much as Grace. The door opened. It was Grace. She looked surprised at seeing Leslie, more than anything. She was, after all, home very early.

"Les! Wow, uh, welcome back." She noted Jesse but hugged Leslie. When she let go, the awkwardness of the situation hit all three and they all stood silent, blushing and shuffling. Leslie thought she heard Jesse mumble something like, "_I told you so,_" and she elbowed him.

"Can we come in, Grace?" Leslie finally said.

"Uh, the air conditioning is out. Let's go 'round back."

"How about the basement? It's always cool there," suggested Jesse.

"Tommy's down there with Lisa," Grace mentioned casually. "It might not be G-rated at this point." Although she laughed a little at her joke, it was obvious Grace was disgusted by her brother's behavior.

"Does he have the, you know…camera?" asked Leslie.

Grace reached into her pocked an pulled out the thin digital, holding it up by the cord. "I was going to take some blackmail shots, but…" She and Leslie dissolved into a fit of giggles, until Grace looked back and saw Jesse's nervous face. They walked to the large spruce tree in silence and sat in the shade. Out of the sun, with little humidity and the light breeze, even ninety-four degrees didn't feel too bad.

Leslie began talking, almost immediately, about how she felt towards Jesse and Grace, not realizing how uncomfortable she was making them. But when she said she wanted them to start over as friends, Grace seemed relieved, but looked more to Jesse for acceptance. When he began talking, Jesse apologized profusely, to the point where Grace was telling him to shut up and that this or that was certainly not his fault. Their hour together was a mixture of embarrassment and apologies, but ended with all three feeling at least a little better.

They also spoke about Barb Keane's roll in all this and Grace shared her story from earlier in the day. She was still angry with the girl and both she and Jesse refused to go to the Keane's for a visit when Leslie promoted the idea. Leslie finally gave up and dropped the matter, for now. Sounding the eternal optimist, she again declared, as they were leaving, that all would soon be well, but Jesse and Grace knew there was more healing to take place; neither moved to embrace the other when he and Leslie prepared to ride home.

- - - - - - - - - - -

While Jesse and Leslie were out together, working through their issues, Judy Burke was at home considering what to do about her husband and daughter. Leslie came first, but only because Judy had to face her first. Bill could wait until his return, one she hoped was sped up by the rest of his family departing early.

Looking back on the previous six weeks, after a good night's sleep, Judy was even more appalled by her daughter's behavior than she had been initially: truly dismayed and disgusted. Never in her life had the teen acted so completely horrid, not to mention rude and disrespectful. There was no doubt it was due to her separation for Jesse Aarons, but a reason is not an excuse. The only thing Leslie had in her favor, Judy knew, was that she herself had been nearly as horrible to her husband. This pained and concerned Judy, too, that Leslie did not take the time to consider that her mother was fighting the tour as much as she was. Unfortunately, although the remedy to the situation was correct, it happened five weeks too late. And this, Judy knew, _was_ her fault.

Leslie's behavior turned ugly so abruptly, it reminded Judy of patients she saw in her pre-med days who were going through withdrawal from one addiction or another. And she also remembered the separation forced upon herself and Bill when their parents found out she was pregnant.

_Was I any better behaved than Leslie?_

She wanted to think so, but could not remember back over twenty years. Judy called her sister, with whom her relationship had improved little, and begged her to answer that one question. Joan did not need to _twist the knife_ in her sister, or exaggerate her behavior when she answered: "You were horrible for weeks. Absolutely horrible: screaming, cursing…"

And Judy had her answer, or one of the answers, at least. Still the question remained: what action to take with her daughter? She already felt like she had given her approval and encouragement by the midnight request that she be allowed to stay with her boyfriend. She truly was not concerned about inappropriate behavior, though she, just as Mary Aarons, was shocked that the kids interpreted _'share the room'_ as _'share the bed.'_ Looking in on them before returning home that morning was both disturbing and satisfying, but mostly satisfying. It would calm her daughter and make discussing her issues less problematic.

Judy sat and sighed, feeling wishy-washy, like she was not giving clear signals, like she was being a bad mother.

Shortly after noon, Mary Aarons stopped by to let Judy know that their kids were up and had been instructed, as they had discussed very early that morning, to go off together and work out their issues. Her friend grimaced, and then to Mary's surprise, started laughing.

"You know, Mare, the first couple years our kids were friends I was constantly trying to moderate Leslie's affection, now I feel like I've given her free reign."

"I think that's called parenting, Jude: Screw-it-up, learn, screw-it-up again."

"Yes, I do have the _screw-it-up_ part down pretty good." Judy rubbed her face in fatigue and frustration before continuing. "Pretty stupid, wasn't it?"

Straight-faced, Mary answered. "You've done quite a few stupid things lately. Which are you referring to?"

Judy again burst into laughter. "Touché! No argument there, but I was talking about having the kids sleep together last night."

Mary's smile diminished as she thought over her answer. "Perhaps. You know I'm more open to that than you are," Mary started, then added, "Under tightly controlled conditions, of course."

Again Judy laughed, then recalled the reason she had asked her friend to come over. "Mary, I don't know what to do about Leslie any more. She was…well, I told you last night about her behavior. I can't reward it any more and I don't know how to discipline her for it. Any ideas?"

"Yes," Mary answered immediately and decisively. "Wait until tomorrow. Les is staying with us tonight, if she and Jess have worked things out, that is. Tomorrow you both will be better rested and you can leave Jimmy with me and go for a long walk and scream and cry all you want. Hopefully Leslie will have come to the realization of her mistakes and be repentant. That's my advice."

Judy nodded, not having any other idea of how to proceed.

"Mare, about Les staying over…"

"She'll be in May's room, don't worry."

"Thanks. I don't want to tempt fate again." Pausing, Mary could see Judy had more to say and she waited. "Do you think they'll make up? Les did some pretty awful things."

"Only superficially, from what you told me. I'm far more concerned about Jess's actions with poor Grace Jacobs. I've never heard Jess use profanity except a few nights ago when he came home from seeing Grace that last time and locked himself in his room. I was _worried!_ '_Stupid effing this,' _and_ 'stupid effing that_.' He went on like that for a half hour. Ellie and I stood outside his door until we heard him cry himself to sleep. The next morning her father practically chewed my head off. And the three of them, four if you add Tom, have been so close."

"You think Jess has become attached to Grace?" Judy asked calmly.

"Not romantically, no, but he likes her a lot, I know that. They seem to have more of a close cousin relationship."

"Kissing cousins?"

Mary shook her head and shrugged; she did not know. "Jude, I think Jess is beginning to find that girls are fun to 'play' with, if you know what I mean. In the absence of Les, Grace took her place. Jack and I have talked to him about it, a little. I think he knows what he did, no matter how unintentionally hurtful, was not smart, and it certainly was not faithful to Leslie."

Judy shook her head. There were no easy answers any longer.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jesse and Leslie returned home at eight after having ridden around most of Lark Creek, visiting Mikey Sellers and the Silliard twins. They had dinner at a hamburger joint a mile down the road to Boxley and talked a lot about their lost summer. And the beach. The entire vacation was still up in the air until Leslie spoke with her mother and Bill was heard from. Jesse said he had no intention of going if his best friend didn't, and she promised the same.

After locking the bikes in the shed, Jesse walked Leslie to her house and asked if she wanted him to go in with her.

"No, thanks. I messed it up; I have to fix it." She turned uneasily to go inside but Jesse took her arm and stopped her. She turned.

"Les, I…I wish you could…I missed you. Can you call me when you're done? Maybe we can watch a movie, or something."

Leslie smiled. "I'm too tired to stay up tonight, Jess, but I'll call if it's not too late."

"I'm sorry…about everything. I never wanted to hurt anyone, especially you."

"I know that, Jess. Same with me." She touched his cheek and could tell he was hurting. Judging by the way she felt, she guessed correctly that Jesse didn't want to be apart from her either. They shared a brief kiss and then Leslie went inside.

Jesse walked home slowly feeling like he had lost his girlfriend yet again. He knew that there were still wounds to heal between them and their friends, and that would take time. But he still missed her terribly and wished he could turn around and see her running to him, or jump out of the rhododendron like she used to.

_Growing up sucks._

Over the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, Jesse received his first wish as Leslie sprinted up behind him and grabbing his arm, nearly knocking him over.

"_Hi!_"

"Hi! What…?"

"You get me for another night, Mom said." Seeing her boyfriend's smile she did the first thing that came to mind and kissed him, long and passionately.

"_Wow!_ I missed that."

"Can't have that, can we?" They kissed again. When finished, Leslie told Jesse, "Mom said we would talk tomorrow and that I needed more time with you."

"_I like your Mom!_"

"Me too…most of the time."

"Let's sleep on the floor tonight, Less, my bed's too small."

"Uh, don't think so. Mom said I have to use May's room." Both pouted and then broke into laughter. "They must not trust us."

"Guess not," Jesse chuckled.

Leslie touched Jesse's cheek again and realized her mother was very like correct. _And the way I feel tonight it's probably just as well…_

- - -

Leslie was long asleep, but Jesse lay in his bed thinking of his best friend down the hall. He turned his face into the pillow every so often and breathed in the hint of her scent from the previous night. Temporarily sated, Jesse again thought back on the day, particularly the visit with Grace and how he came out of it feeling a little better. The rest of his and Leslie's time together seemed a blur, but having been with her was what mattered.

The other reason Jesse was awake appeared as he was about to fall asleep, about ten minutes to midnight. A quiet rap on the door and Ellie's head popped into his room.

"Jess?" she whispered. "You still awake?"

"Yeah, come on in."

Ellie entered and closed the door behind her, then gave her brother an, "_Are you alone?_" look. He replied with a silent nod.

"Too bad! I knew it was too good to last." She sat on the bed and patted Jesse's leg sympathetically. "So…?"

Jesse had expected this question. "So…_what?_"

"Did you and Les get any…closer last night?"

"About as close as we could." Which was near enough to the truth.

"_No!_"

"Yep."

"You…_did it?_"

Jesse yawned dramatically and smiled. "All night long."

"Oh, that's _bull shit_, Jess," Ellie shot back. "You wouldn't dare."

"You're right, Ell, we only did it a couple times."

Ellie gave Jesse an appraising look, smiled thinly, and shook her head. "You're a liar."

"How do you know?"

"Because, you don't look like you got lucky, that's why," she said smugly. "And if you did, Les would probably be back here now."

"Yeah? Well, you're right: No fornicating in here last night." Jesse was surprised to see a look of relief on Ellie's face and wondered if she had been feeling guilty for joking about it.

"Did you make up?"

"Yeah, pretty much." This time Jesse smiled in relief.

"Good. You two are made for each other; you know that, don't you?"

Jesse _did_ know, he just hadn't verbalized it as such. He nodded.

"Any word about the beach? I have to get a sub arranged if we're still going."

"Nothing yet. Les and her mother still have to work through some things…_Oh!_ I almost forgot. Judy and Bill aren't separating."

"That's good…but then what was she talking about?"

Jesse's face fell and he started telling his sister about J.B. and Leslie in Europe. She kept a neutral expression throughout the story.

"So she was talking about separating Leslie and this B.J. kid?"

"J.B., not B.J., Ell."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, that's right, she was talking about Les." Jesse yawned and Ellie took the hint.

"Ok, Jess. I'm really happy you and Les are still together. I mean that." Following a quick squeeze of her brother's hand, Ellie rose and walked to the door. "G'night, Jess."

"Night, Ell, see you tomorrow."

She stopped half way out the door and turned back. "Say, Jess…wanna do something tomorrow? Les can come along, too."

Surprised, Jesse smiled and said he would like that very much.


	41. Part 5: The Dispersions

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 41 – The Dispersions**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Sixteen months after Jesse's last nightmare about Leslie dying, a new one took hold. He patiently waited to wake up.

- - -

Jesse Aarons tapped his foot nervously on the rear floor of the Burke's sedan, wishing beyond anything the ride was over. It only took ten minutes to cover the distance to Lark Creek High School, but it felt more like ten hours; the silence among the three occupants was deafening, and discomforting, broken only by Bill Burke's curse at a dangerously aggressive student in a pickup cutting him off. Twice Jesse noticed him look towards his daughter. Nothing. Even at the student drop-off, Leslie ignored her father's _have a good day_ wish. As Jesse left the car, their eyes met. Bill was embarrassed and looked away quickly. Mumbling a _thank you_, Jesse shut the door and faced the hundred or so students milling around the front of the school; his stomach churned and gurgled noisily. He saw Leslie disappear into the crowd. He had thought – he had _expected,_ that she would be with him, at his side, facing this together. But she wasn't.

_Shit..._

He searched for a friendly face: Tom, Mikey, Carol, Lisa...anyone, but all he saw were some of his classmates from eighth grade, none he had ever really gotten to know, and he knew that Gary Fulcher and Ricky Manning were somewhere on the property. He cursed again, and his stomach echoed the growing unease he felt pressing in on him.

_Shit... CRAP! Tom's becoming a bad influence on me..._

He walked forward, but the crowds at the door began to send waves of panic through him and he reflexively reached down to take Leslie's hand, but it wasn't what he touched. A second later, he found himself shoved roughly against a wall by an angry looking boy wearing a letter jacket with a wrestling pin. His threatening words were lost in the general noise of the mob. With the wind knocked out of him, Jesse slipped around and behind the door to calm himself; he did not want to hyperventilate now.

The students walked by, a few looked at him, but no one said a word, no one smiled at him. The first day of high school was forty-five seconds old and already a disaster. As if on queue, it started raining, and the last fifty or so students created a scrum at the door, fighting to get in before becoming soaked. Jesse watched them pass with annoyance: even getting wet had not dampened these kids' spirit, a spirit he sorely lacked. When the crowd eased, Jesse went inside and shook the water out of his hair to keep it from running in his eyes.

Looking above the heads of the students filtering off to their classes, Jesse tried to see Leslie again, and then admonished himself: Seeing her would do _nothing_ for his humor. He would have to wait for third period Spanish, but did he really want to? He felt a familiar anger boiling inside him, anger aggravated by the emptiness in his heart that had abated little in the two weeks since he and Leslie had broken-up.

It had been the perfect end to the crap-summer from Hell.

_At least no one dies this time._

- - - - - - - - - - -

The morning after her return from Europe, Leslie gave Jesse an apprehensive wave goodbye and headed back to her house to make peace with her mother. She gave every indication that her absence would be lengthy, and when she returned (if ever) it would probably with news of a twelve to twenty-four month grounding. Jesse laughed until he saw she was serious, and not at all amused with his idea of humor. Ellie, watching from the kitchen window, gave the younger girl a thumbs-up, but was not sure if she saw it. They had all agreed that if she were not back by noon, the siblings would take off on their own for the day, though the destination had not been decided.

May reappeared shortly after Leslie left, dropped off by the mother of her soccer friend with whom she had been spending the past two nights. Asking about Leslie walking home, Jesse gave her an overview of the past two days and their plans for the afternoon. She listened and made an immediate suggestion.

"Why don't we go up to that place you and Leslie always hike to? You promised me," she finished, giving Jesse a sad-puppy look.

"'We'?" Ellie said harshly. "Jesse and I are doing something together, not you."

Hurt, May stomped off to her room after seeing her brother wasn't going to intercede. The room was silent for a few seconds and then, "What's May upset about, Jess?" his mother called down the stairs. Jesse and Ellie exchanged looks: _Maybe she will be going with us…_

"Nothing, Mom, um, Ell and I were just about to…" He paused and looked to his sister and she shrugged. "…ask her to go hiking with us today."

Thirty seconds later the eleven year old came racing down the stairs and gave Jesse a hug, conspicuously ignoring her eldest sister.

Ellie disappeared into the family room drinking coffee, re-reading her last letter from Toby and May started telling Jesse about her ability to juggle the soccer ball more than a hundred times. Mary carried Brian down the stairs with Joyce Ann trailing, toting her box of crayons and a coloring book. Brenda appeared out of the front hall closet where she had been looking for an umbrella – Jesse wasn't sure why since it was a clear day. Jack Aarons was on the floor of the kitchen peering into the inner workings of a malfunctioning dishwasher. It was a typical Saturday morning in the Aarons house.

Then Leslie burst in through the front door laughing, and startling everyone. She giggled, looking for Jesse and wordlessly took his hand, dragging him back outside.

"What happened? You've been gone all of ten…" Jesse was able to say before his girlfriend silenced him with a kiss. He didn't object.

"Dad got home about a half-hour ago. Mom left me a note saying we would talk tomorrow and they didn't want to be disturbed - all day." She giggled again, and Jesse blushed. This was not the first time Bill had returned from a trip and their daughter had been sent out for the larger portion of the day. He always wondered what they would do with Jimmy when he was beyond the long-nap age. Leslie got his attention back with another kiss, but they quickly broke apart.

"_Ahem!_ You two ready to go?"

Ellie had stuck her head out the door and was obviously delighted to see her brother and his girlfriend shedding any remaining inhibitions from the previous day.

"I am. What did you two decide?"

"We expanded some, Les. It's you, me, Ell, and May. We're going to the Boone place."

Leslie seemed completely unconcerned that May would be joining them and took the news one step further. "Let's ask Grace and Tom to join us…if it's ok with you, Ellie."

Jesse was a little put out that his desires in the matter were ignored and muttered, "Let's ask Lisa, Carol, Mikey, and Barb, too."

"Well, actually, Les, I was hoping we could keep it just family. Would you mind?"

Opening her mouth to reply, it suddenly struck Leslie that she had been included in the Aarons 'family.' She smiled and said no. All was set. The next hour was spent gathering the gear needed, two extra people meant much more water, snacks, and food. Adding to this, Ellie did not have anything that could pass as hiking shoes. Neither did May, but she was small and light enough that it didn't matter.

"I know what we'll do," Ellie declared, and proceeded to tell them how she would drive to the cabin with the food and extra water and meet them there in a few hours. They could all hike the last half mile to the pond together. With the plans made and the gear collected, May, Leslie, and Jesse took off down the path and Ellie went back inside to wait.

Leslie showed signs of being a little out of shape for the eight miler, but Jesse was not surprised; he'd noticed she had put on a few pounds in Europe, so the trip took longer than usual. May, on the other hand, ran circles around them and by Jesse's estimate, covered at least twice the mileage to the cabin with her sprints ahead and side-trips on short adventures into the woods. But there were times, too, when she walked with her brother, sometimes even holding his hand with excitement, before dashing off to see some other interesting tree or rock.

Ellie met them at the cabin as planned, and the four went inside the old hut to eat lunch and rest. It looked like the place had been visited since June, but there was no sign of vandalism, they were happy to see. When finished, Jesse and Leslie led the others off on the last leg of the journey.

With their arrival at the pond, May and Ellie showed the same expressions of wonder Jesse and Leslie had years earlier: Both we speechless, quite an accomplishment with May. The sisters looked around while Leslie and Jesse removed their shoes and socks to soak their feet. They were joined a minute later by their silent partners.

After a long rest, and longer talks about the property, they headed back. May paired up with Leslie while Ellie had Jesse lag a bit behind, a certain sign she wanted to talk to him.

"So is this where you take Leslie to make-out?" she eventually asked. Recalling his last trip up to the property, Jesse just turned to his sister and smiled. Ellie laughed, seeing a glint of truth in her brother's eyes. But the thought _had_ occurred to Jesse that he and Leslie might need to hike up here again, soon, for some private time together. His conscience, however, noisily discouraged such a trip.

Arriving home near dinnertime, May ran off to find her parents and tell them about her great adventure, but not before hugging Leslie and Jesse and thanking them for taking her. They watched her run off and then ducked into the long shadow of the addition and almost immediately found themselves lip-locked and breathing heavily.

"I guess this means we're over what happened the past couple months," Leslie quipped. Jesse smiled and reunited their mouths. He soon began to hope that the beach trip would work out: Leslie in a bathing suit had taken a prominent place in his dreams the night before and he had to again break away, most reluctantly, to calm himself. Sitting against the foundation of the house, Leslie joined him, entwining her fingers with his. "You're not so reluctant to kiss me any more, are you?"

Jesse wasn't sure how to respond; he had never spoken to Leslie about how uncomfortable kissing had first been to him.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Sometimes, but Mom said to be patient. She was right."

They both laughed and turned to the other for another long session that left them even more out of breath. At one point, Jesse's hand slipped dangerously close to Leslie's chest, but this time it was _un_intentional and he repositioned it before Leslie felt she had to. Ending this session smiling outwardly, but slightly panicked by the rapidity with which the feeling of being out of control had come upon her, Leslie sat up, again taking Jesse's hand and leaning towards him, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing contentedly.

"It's hard, isn't it, Jess?" said Leslie quietly after a few seconds.

Before realizing what she was _really_ talking about, controlling their desires, he nearly panicked. "Oh, yeah, I feel like I'm going crazy with you, like I want more and more," he admitted honestly.

Leslie nodded and squeezed his hand, then brought it to her mouth and kissed it. "Jess, we need to talk about this: us getting carried away so fast. I love you, but I'm…I don't want us to be like my parents and get in trouble. I'm not ready to have sex yet..." She hesitated, trying to articulate what she felt. "I mean,_ it'll happen soon enough_…but I'm not ready… yet."

"_It'll happen soon enough?" _Jesse's mind raced._ How soon is she thinking?_ It sounded like she had them on a timetable.

Shocked by Leslie's candor, Jesse stuttered as he began his response. "I…I…I know, L-Les. It's k-kinda hard to think straight when we're…you know. It's scary sometimes, like just a minute ago, I wanted to…"

"What, Jess, what did you want to do?" Leslie asked softly, breathily, instantly feeling herself slipping back into the state of mind-numbing bliss.

Acutely embarrassed by the question, Jesse concentrated on their linked hands and admitted honestly, "I wanted to...touch you…and _see you_, um, see your, um, you…" He swallowed loudly, unable to continue.

Leslie nodded; she knew exactly what her boyfriend was saying. And feeling.

"Jess, when we got carried away last time…" Leslie emitted a quiet, self-conscious giggle, and took a deep breath to refocus herself, "…my mother gave me some ideas about how to avoid…trouble."

_This should be good! _Jesse knew Leslie and her mother had spoken about their previous trip up to the Boone property, but he had not heard any of the details, yet.

"Uh-huh. Like…?"

"Want the juicy details?" she laughed.

"At this point, I'll take _anything_ that helps," he acknowledged nervously.

Leslie shifted so they were facing each other and _not_ touching, it reminded Jesse of the times she quizzed him or they drilled school facts. It also set the tone of what they were about to discuss, and both adolescents felt immediate relief from their previous state of excitement.

"Ok, here goes," she said, smiling kindly. "First…"

Leslie listed off the suggestions her mother had offered while Jesse sat patiently listening. After a couple minutes, however, he began to have more interest in Leslie's snug t-shirt than the recommendations. He soon had his attention drawn back to the subject at hand, however, when he heard Leslie say, "But when all else fails…" and she pulled a small package from her pocket and tossed it into her boyfriend's lap.

It took Jesse a few seconds to realize what it was, then he threw the condom back as if it were a pair of very dirty underwear.

"_Jess, it's the last resort!_" Leslie pleaded.

"Yeah, the _very_ last." He shivered involuntarily. "_Lord, Leslie!_"

"_Jesse Aarons!_" Leslie snapped, "Judy and Bill were _parents_ at fourteen, and that's not going to happen with us, no matter how much we care for each other."

"I know, Les. I didn't mean we should…never…_Damn!_ Ok, sorry, it's – it's a lot to think about, is all."

Leslie slouched down feeling overwhelmed, and something else, something foreign, but she couldn't identify it. "I know. I'm sorry, too. I lost my temper." She paused, glanced around, and then snuggled with Jesse, holding his hand and arm while his head rested atop hers. "Thanks for being honest, Jess. A lot of guys would probably say they weren't worried about…losing control."

They lingered quietly for a while until Leslie discovered they had been sitting on an anthill and hoards of the insects were swarming between them. Both jumped up and swatted the ants from their shorts and shirts, laughing hysterically at their situation, until May came outside and asked what they were doing. When she saw, she ran off feigning disgust, but not before saying dinner would be ready in a half-hour.

"Jess, I'm going to get a shower and then let's do something with May. Maybe Ellie will drive us into Boxley for ice cream after dinner."

Jesse's countenance brightened with his mind now firmly distracted. "That sounds good. I need to get cleaned up, too." Leslie arched her eyebrows, but Jesse had missed his own slip of the tongue, which was probably best.

- - -

At nine that evening, Leslie was preparing to go home when the phone rang: It was her parents and they were coming over. Mary Aarons called her husband up from the basement where he had been tinkering with the lawnmower's fuel pump and enjoying a couple shots of Jack Daniel's. Answering the summons from his wife, he washed and went upstairs to greet the guests whom he could hear had just arrived.

"_Oh_…Bill." Mary said with a combination of surprise and concern when she answered the door. The word that Judy's husband was home had not reached her. She saw her friend's face, however, and that she appeared happy. "Welcome back."

"Thanks, Mary. Is Jack home?" At that moment, he entered the room wiping oil and gasoline off on a rag. When Bill went to shake hands, Jack held them up.

"Greasy, Bill. Sorry. Welcome back." With his usual short, brisk greeting, Jack Aarons sat, inviting their friends to do the same. As soon as Judy was situated, Leslie left Jesse's side and went to sit with her mother, whispering something in her ear that made the woman appear very happy.

"We should talk about the beach, Jack, Mary," Bill began. "I know our unexpected trip put it in doubt, but Judy and I have decided that we should still go. Are the Aarons' still interested?"

Before either parent could answer, a chorus of cheerful yeses was heard from the children. The parents also agreed and they started making arrangements: the rental began in just one week.

There was more excitement this summer than last, especially with all the Aarons children more familiar with what a real beach holiday was like; however, as with the year before, reality allowed the Aarons to stay only one of the two weeks, though Jesse was, of course, invited for the entire fortnight. Upon further lobbying, May was also given permission to stay both weeks, but immediately had the plan ruined by a reminder of a weeklong soccer camp for new members of her travel soccer team. With these preliminaries complete, Judy and Bill told their daughter to gather her things; her brief stay with the Aarons was over.

Before leaving, Leslie mentioned to Jesse about inviting the Jacobs to the beach. She saw his hesitation but he promised he'd think about it. Then with a quick kiss in front of both families, Leslie went home.

The same odd, disquieting feeling that she'd felt earlier, behind Jesse's house, was back, but it was over almost before she noticed it.

- - -

Leslie woke the next morning and dreaded what she had to do that day. Even though it had been a few days since their return from Europe, the bitter memories of how abysmally she had treated her parents for six weeks, and particularly her mother the last three days, was foremost in her thoughts. She was prepared to apologize for her behavior, but also knew there would be punishment of some sort. Probably a lot, and probably something that would keep her apart from Jesse. Around ten, Leslie's mother called for her to get ready to go for a walk. It was time. Without delay, mother and daughter set off to discuss the subject at hand.

Later that day, Leslie had a few minutes to see Jesse and mention her punishment. Jesse smiled, commenting on how creative her parents were with sentencing. Leslie felt like punching him, but restrained herself, resigned to her fate. She headed home shortly thereafter, not looking forward to the beach trip quite as much, but over-all, feeling like she had gotten off lightly.

- - - - - - - - - - -

In the days leading up to their departure, Jesse and Leslie spoke at length about inviting the Jacobs to the beach, but neither had heard from their friends since the brief visit the day following Leslie's return. Leslie called and left messages, but none were returned and she was becoming aggravated with them. Finally, with only two days remaining, Leslie convinced Jesse to visit them and see what they were doing. Riding Leslie's parent's bikes again, Jesse grumbled to himself the entire way across town, still not certain the invitation was the best idea, but behaved when they arrived: Leslie had turned grouchy again and he didn't want to irritate her.

As with their last visit, Grace met them at the door, but this time they were invited in, (the air conditioning had been repaired). Tom showed up in the living room shortly thereafter and all four sat around waiting for someone to speak. Predictably, it was Leslie. She repeated the beach invitation enthusiastically, and when finished, awaited the reply.

Grace and Tom looked nervously at each other before answering, but their statement had nothing at all to do with the question.

"We thought you were here because of...what happened." Seeing their guests' look of total confusion, Tom continued, and his words shocked them. "The Keane's are gone."

Jesse looked at Leslie, as if she might know something. "Gone? Where?"

"Gone, gone," Grace said quietly.

"Gone, as in _gone_?" Jesse asked to clarify.

"_YES! Jesus Christ, Jess!_ They left two days ago without so much as a word. A 'For Sale' sign went up this morning."

"But...why?"

"_How the hell should I know? I don't have a crystal ball!_" said Tom rudely.

Hurt, Jesse turned mute.

"Grace, when you talked to Barb the other day, she didn't say _anything_?" Leslie asked calmly.

"No. But..." Their young friend looked more upset than her friendship with the family ought to warrant.

"What is it, Gracie?" Jesse asked quietly. But the girl seemed on the verge of tears and unable to answer.

"I'll tell them," said Tom. "There were a bunch of police cars there last night. Not just the local sheriff, state police, too. Our father went over to find out what was happening and was told to watch the news, but we haven't seen anything on TV or the internet."

Shocked, both Jesse and Leslie sat speechless. Tom walked away and didn't return. After a couple minutes of silence, Grace sniffled and gave them more news.

"Tom and Lisa broke up, that's why he's so crabby."

All Leslie could manage was a quite, "Oh," but Jesse got up to look for his friend. Grace tried to stop him but the warning was ignored.

- - -

Tom's bedroom door was closed and Jesse knocked softly, asking if he could come in. He heard a reply but couldn't understand it and entered anyway. Stretched out on his bed, Tom was looking absently through a plant care magazine. Jesse noticed that he had added shelves and dozens of exotic looking plants to the point where the room resembled a greenhouse.

"Hey."

"Yeah, hey."

"I heard about you and Lisa...sorry."

"Yeah, thanks." Tom didn't look up.

"What happened?"

"_We broke up!_" Tom barked.

_This is going to be a fun conversation_, Jesse realized, sitting in a chair by the desk. "Yeah, I heard...you ok?" He didn't look ok, and Jesse persisted. "Tom?" When he didn't answer a second time, Jesse looked closer and saw his friend was on the verge of tears. "Look, I'll get outta here. If you want to do something…maybe we can get together before we leave..."

"Come here," Tom said abruptly, getting up and walking to his computer. "If you say a word of this to Gracie, I'll _beat the shit out of_ _you_. _Understand?_"

Jesse was instantly convinced and said so. Tom had one of those voices that brooked no arguments at times.

"Read this," Tom was pointing to a link he'd pulled up on his computer. Jesse saw it was from the Roanoke Sentinel's online edition, updated that morning. He watched as the page scrolled down. Then he saw it and read. His mind spun, he felt as if he was choking. Running to the bathroom, he vomited. Tom came to the door a few seconds later with a glass of water; his face was grim.

"Here, I did the same thing. You probably shouldn't expect Les to kiss you any time soon." Smiling slightly, he gave Jesse a handful of mints.

Sitting back in the bedroom a couple minutes later, Jesse fully understood that Tom was not so much upset about himself or Lisa as about the Keane family.

"I can't believe it...I won't tell Gracie, I promise. Or Les, either, she'd freak."

"They'll find out, eventually. God, this is horrible. Uh, Jess, sorry we didn't get back to you sooner about the beach. Dad said Grace and I can go the second week, like last year. Is that ok?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, the beach. That's great." Tom didn't think Jesse sounded like it was all that great, but he also understood why.

Jesse told Leslie the good news about their friends joining them, but she instantly knew something else was wrong. And she noticed her boyfriend popping mints like candy. But Jesse stubbornly refused to say anything as they biked home, to the point where Leslie got angry with him and told him to leave her alone. Tired of lying about _nothing being wrong_, he did just that and started packing.

- - -

Little had changed in Duck, North Carolina, over the past twelve months. The beach was just as beautiful, the sand just as hot, the sea breeze just as salty and fresh, and the humidity just as oppressive. The house was the same one they had rented the previous summer so there was little needed in the way of orienting the two families, which was just as well since everyone wanted to head to the beach and stretch after the ten hour trip across the southern edge of Virginia. But four cars of people, food, baggage, and beach paraphernalia took time to unload. By the time it was all piled in the large living room awaiting room assignments, it was dinnertime. The chance of finding a pizza delivery company available on the first day of the busiest week of the season was virtually nil, so Jack Aarons sent everyone out while he fired up the grill and prepared hamburgers and hot dogs. When Bill saw his thinly disguised bottle of Whiskey he promised to return shortly to, _help_ _cook_. The women did not argue.

Before heading to the beach, Mary and Judy stopped Jesse and Leslie and pulled them into one of the bedrooms on the main floor adjacent to the living room. Looking at each other, and questioning the wisdom of what they were about to do, particularly in light of Judy's recent conversation with her daughter, they told the kids that they could share the room. It went without saying that the list of restrictions for the privilege was lengthy. As they listened, Jesse and Leslie noted the bunk beds and lack of a door, or even a curtain. Their eyes met, however, and showed that both knew this was just about as good as they could expect and thanked their mother. The conversation as they walked to the beach shortly thereafter was lively.

The hot August days passed slowly and both families enjoyed their time away from home. Jesse discovered, almost immediately, that Leslie's punishment was kitchen clean-up duty, every meal, both weeks. She endured the time spent scrubbing with silent resignation, but after a couple days her parents allowed her some help, but only some. Jesse volunteered after every meal, but Judy, with Mary's help, made sure no one old enough to dry and put away pots and pans missed an opportunity.

As they had the previous summer, Jesse and Leslie ran every morning the first week at Duck, careful this year to always bring enough water. Often they left at the crack of dawn to avoid the heat, but it also allowed Leslie to feel more secure than she formerly had with stripping off her shirt when it became soaked with perspiration. She gave Jesse a warm smile the first time she did it (he never complained) and it was always put back on well before returning to the house. It was not easy, in any event, to watch her while running, Jesse quickly discovered. Adding to that was the fact that her athletic bra covered almost as much of her torso as the sleeveless t-shirts she wore, so Jesse had little in the way of distractions. That happened in the surf with the mind-boggling two-piece she had recently purchased.

Neither was Jesse the only teen to notice Leslie, or the only female to be noticed. In a society where junk food produced junky figures, the largest collection of attractive females within a quarter mile was the Burke-Aarons house. Brenda, while out of Leslie's league, was still attractive, though Ellie and Leslie had to gently convince her she did not have a figure that could be accented by a bikini. Ellie, though no longer a teen, enjoyed the benefits of working long hours and exercise, and attracted more than her share of males, but she was "Out of the market," as her mother would say. And May, though not _yet_ a teen, was attractively athletic and so outgoing as to always attract anyone her age, male or female, just as Leslie had years before. Jesse recalled their first trip to the beach and found himself watching his younger sister protectively, especially if any one boy gave her too much attention.

One thing that helped Jesse deal with his jealousy issues this year was his complete comfort at being physical with Leslie in public. He sometimes wondered if she was intentionally touching him more just for this reason. Other boys were still drawn to her, but as she and Jesse were almost always connected, holding hands, embracing, even occasionally kissing, no advances were made aside from recruiting for the evening Frisbee and volleyball games.

But as the week progressed, Jesse began to notice a distance growing between himself and Leslie. He knew they had gone through phases like this before, where too much time together left a feeling of burnout, almost as if they were forcing the relationship. In the past these cycles had always balanced out over time, so Jesse didn't give it much thought, until Leslie started snapping at him. She had done this a few times the week before leaving for the beach, but as the end of the first week approached, he began to feel she was becoming petty. Eventually, Jesse chalked it up to some female _thing_ and tried to be extra nice. That worked for one entire day.

- - -

Saturday morning came far too soon for the Aarons family, and found two of the cars loaded and ready to depart. Goodbyes and thanks were exchanged while May and Joyce Ann made one last quick trip to the beach to say a final farewell to their new friends. Jesse watched on, smiling, as May hugged a few of the boys shyly. By ten, the cars were gone and the Burkes and Jesse were left planning the second week of activities, but Leslie remained disinterested and short-tempered; Bill and Judy exchange worried looks more than once.

Grace and Tom arrived in the early afternoon, driven by their father from Wilmington where they had spent the past couple days visiting relatives, and Jesse began to think their newest guests were the cause of Leslie's decaying civility over the past few days, and that she might not be as settled with him and Grace being in such close proximity as she said she was. But plans to talk about this were sidetracked as soon as Tom and Grace exited the car. It was obvious something was wrong, but as neither immediately volunteered any information, Jesse assumed Grace had heard the news about the Keanes and Tom was just playing along. After bringing their things in, Tom quietly asked Mr. Burke if he and his sister could share a room. Bill thought it was because of Jesse and Leslie's sleeping arrangements, forgetting the new arrivals didn't even know about it, and told Tom that both were planning to change rooms. Tom told him the real reason, asking that he and Grace break the news to their friends first. Bill nodded and showed them a room they could share.

Five minutes later, with Jesse and Leslie already having noticed Bill's poorly disguised expression of concern, Tom and Grace asked their friends to go out to the beach so they could talk. It was only a hundred yards to the dunes, but the walk seemed to take forever. Arriving, they sat on the ocean side of the small hill of sand and waited.

"Gracie and me...I mean, our Dad, is being transferred. We'll be moving next June," Tom told them quietly.

Leslie looked at Grace, but she did not look up.

Jesse, on the other hand, sat stunned, unable to speak. Time seemed to stand still as he processed the information, refusing to believe it at first. "But…but you told us you had _two_ _more years_, when your mother died. What happened?" he was finally able to ask. When he looked at Tom, he felt sick, and stupid.

"Jess, Mom died fourteen months ago. It _will be _two years next June."

Silently, Grace got up and returned to the house.

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. Crap."

Tom then sat and explained quietly to his friends why he and Grace were sharing a room. Since their mother had died she had had trouble sleeping, and the added insecurity of leaving their friends had made the past few days miserable for her. Jesse assured Tom he understood and asked if there was anything he could do. The answer was not very friendly.

"You've done enough for her this summer, Jess. Thanks anyway." Then he started to leave, but Leslie grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"_NO!_ This _is_ terrible, but we can't let it ruin our last vacation together," she stated. Jesse agreed, but noticed a wild look in his girlfriend's eyes. One he'd seen far too often recently.

The three remained seated, talking quietly. Jesse and Leslie hoped the shock of the news would abate, and it did, but that first day was difficult for everyone. The second day was vastly different and gave Jesse hope for a better week ahead, except for one odd event Sunday morning: Leslie told Jesse she wasn't going to go running any more.

Grace's arrival more than made up for Ellie, Brenda, and May's departure. The vivacious soon-to-be-fourteen-year-old, attracted far too many boys to their area, Jesse felt. But like so many others, he too, occasionally, found his eyes wandering to her, even when Leslie was around. Unlike earlier in the summer, however, it ended with his simple and honest appreciation of a pretty young girl. And besides, Tom made sure it would remain that way. More than a few times, he placed himself physically between Jesse and his sister. It was humiliating, in a way, and Jesse could tell Leslie had picked up on it, and the wild look would flash in her eyes again. Neither Tom not Jesse had spoken about what had happened between Grace and him, but Jesse knew they would have to, some day soon. His friendship with Tom was, after recovering in the spring, strained again.

But Jesse's greatest _delight_ for Grace came when she began to spend more time with one of her new friends, a boy named Eric. Tom was inclined to act the part of a bodyguard, but Jesse pressed him to let his sister have fun. Seeing how truly happy she was, he relented and enjoyed watching the developing companionship, too. As the week progressed, Grace spent ever-increasing amounts of time with Eric, and she could be seen taking his hand in the surf more and more often. Everyone enjoyed seeing her happier, or at least distracted from the news of earlier that week.

Without a hurricane to add excitement to the vacation this year, the members of the three families took a number of day-trips to local sights, the highlight being a return to Kill Devil Hills where all four teens tried hang-gliding. Tom and Jesse did well, but both Grace and Leslie, initially, were thrown about due to their smaller size and gusting winds. It took some time for them to feel comfortable and safe. By the end of the adventure, however, both girls had crowds of boys cheering them on. On her last flight, Grace panicked Bill and Judy by making a tight, one hundred eighty degree turn and 'buzzing' the cheering kids, which only egged them on more. And as this maneuver was strictly against the rules, Grace was banned from further flights, but she didn't care since their time was up.

Jesse watched on with Judy, Bill, and Jimmy, sitting out the last flight after landing hard and bruising his wrist. As the other were finishing and returning their equipment, he tagged along with Bill as he paid for three hours of hang-gliding for four kids. When he saw the tab, he nearly choked: six hundred dollars! He sometimes forgot how wealthy Leslie's parents were because of their relatively simple, down-to-earth lifestyle.

Another day, Bill took Tom and Jesse deep-sea fishing, but came away with only a couple puny sea bass, which were quickly returned. Fortunately, the charter promised every passenger one good-sized fish if they came away empty-handed, and Bill talked them into a single descent size tuna in place of three other fish. They hammed it up upon returning to the house about Tom's big catch (they had drawn straws to see who would get to claim the prize) and Judy filleted the large thunnus for dinner. But while eating, Jesse's mind turned to the Keane family and how he would never enjoy a salmon steak with them again. Tom noticed his absent look and guessed at the connection his friend had made. He felt sick about continuing to hide the story from his sister and Leslie, but he and Jesse had promised to wait until they returned so as to not spoil the vacation.

Revision 1.1, March, 2008


	42. Part 5: The Confutations

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 42 – The Confutations**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_  
Please wake me up, someone! Anyone!_

The first few hours of high school were an orientation for the freshmen and other new students. Returning high schoolers were busy doing any one of a thousand small jobs needed to keep the school operating, not the least of which was helping the new students get their bearings, locker combinations, books, homeroom assignments, et cetera. Teachers and staff were meeting with every new student in the gym to check schedules, answer questions, and collect fees. Roaming the hallways were an assortment of security and office staff trying to spot the usual troublemakers perfecting their skills or recruiting new gang members. The jocks were staffing tables with the coaches keeping their eyes open for standouts from the middle and secondary feeder schools. Jesse was spotted almost immediately by the cross-country coach but begged off signing up until later in the day, claiming he had a student government meeting to attend.

The first official period of the day was third period, or Spanish II for Jesse. And Leslie. Fifteen minutes before it started, he ran headlong into Tom Jacobs and knocked both of them to the ground, much to the amusement of their fellow students. Both started to grumble at the other but then realized they didn't need any more anxiety and apologized. Already suspecting something was wrong with Jesse from their brief phone chat a few days earlier, Tom instantly knew what it was upon seeing his friend. He pulled Jesse aside into a stairwell.

"_You and Les broke up, didn't you_?" It was more a statement than question, and Jesse didn't reply, which effectively answered the inquiry. "I don't believe it. Maybe I do, she was acting kinda strange at the beach." Tom saw Jesse wasn't going to say anything and continued. "Are you ok?" he asked more kindly after seeing Jesse blinking rapidly.

"It's getting better," was all he could mumble, quietly and dejectedly.

_Yeah, right._

"Ok, uh, look, let's do something this weekend, Jess. Maybe go hiking or something?"

"Maybe. I'll give you a call."

"No you won't. I'll call you tomorrow or Thursday. I gotta get to French. See you later."

Feeling a little boost from his friend, Jesse trudged to Spanish with less trepidation, though still not really wanting to see Leslie. And he got his wish: she was not in his class, and as they were originally in the same Spanish II class, he knew she had deliberately transferred herself. Jesse was both hurt and relieved, but believed it easier not seeing her, in the long run. American History, in seventh period, was the next time they shared a class and he would see her before the ride home, unless they ran into each other at lunch, but Jesse had a plan for avoiding here there, too.

P.E., just before lunch, turned out to be the highlight of the morning. Tom and Mikey were both in his class, and the first three weeks they would play soccer. May had been teaching him some skills over the summer and he did not feel like the klutzy, lanky goof from eighth grade. Tom and Mikey had both played some, too, and they had a pretty good team, they reckoned. The only surprise Jesse faced was hitting the showers after practice. He was soaked with perspiration and dirty, but had never showered in a public facility before, though he now understood why they had been given jock straps and gym clothes for the period. But the quick change an hour earlier could hardly be compared to walking around wet and naked with a few dozen guys. Tom gave him a blasé look while explaining that this was common in the military; he'd been using the public showers on bases all his life. (But Jesse was spared the, "We're all boy and have the same thing" speech.) Stripping unhesitantly, his friend grabbed a towel and headed off with the others.

Jesse followed a minute later, and was surprised to find that some of his classmates were already returning to get dressed. Tom was one of them.

"Hurry, Jess, lunch starts in five minutes," he prodded.

The sight of forty or so naked fourteen year old boys around him ended up easing Jesse's fears where he had expected it to increase them, and he took the fastest shower he'd ever had, returning to his locker just as Tom was brushing his short blonde hair back. Still trying to maintain the waning vestiges of his modesty, Jesse dried himself facing away from his friend and started to put his clothes back on, but Tom tapped his shoulder as soon as he had his underpants up.

"Here, you'll need this." He handed Jesse his deodorant. "I noticed you didn't have any."

Jesse smiled apologetically and thought of the times Leslie had reminded him he needed a shower. He used it and handed it back. "Thanks."

Tom waited for Jesse to finish dressing and they walked out to lunch together. "Gracie said to say 'Hi'. I guess I can tell her why Leslie isn't returning her calls now?" Jesse shrugged. "She's called that Eric kid every day since we got back. It's pretty funny."

Jesse gave a brief, happy chuckle. "That's good. She was afraid you'd be mad at her."

"Nah, she always knew it would be a short-term thing, so I wasn't worried about her getting hurt."

Jesse stopped. "Unlike me?"

Tom turned. "Yeah, Jess, unlike you."

"Tom, I never meant things to get out of hand like that. I really like Gracie and would never intentionally hurt her."

Tom ignored the students filing past the two of them and nodded after a pause. "Yeah, I know. Let's eat."

Jesse felt an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders as they continued down the hallway and entered the cafeteria together. He reckoned you couldn't stay mad at someone too long after sharing their deodorant.

Both boys bought a half-pint carton of milk and looked around for anyone they knew to sit with. Mikey was with Carol and Lisa, so Tom nixed that seating plan. Jesse saw Leslie eating with three other girls he didn't recognize. As a compromise, they went to one of the few remaining empty tables and started on their bag lunches. Half-way through, Tom dropped a bomb.

"Did you see Manning and Fulcher?"

Jesse choked and coughed on his milk. "_WHAT?!_ You're kidding, right?" But Tom wasn't. "_Aw shit!_"

"Couldn't've said it better myself," the other boy laughed. "Think they'll be a problem?"

From halfway across the cafeteria, a loud and familiar voice called out, as if in answer to that very question: _"HEY AARONS, HAVE ANY NUDE PICTURES OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND?"_ The room went immediately quiet and Jesse glanced in Leslie's direction. She was ignoring Fulcher. "_NO?_ _WANNA BUY SOME?_"

The room erupted in laughter and more than a few requests for copies.

_I know I'm asleep, I HAVE to be asleep..._

_This isn't happening..._

_Maybe the past four years were all a dream..._

_Maybe Leslie really died and I've been in a psychotic coma all this time..._

_Maybe my older self really _did_ exist and I really _did_ try to kill myself and I'm a vegetable in some hospital..._

* * *

The night before Al Jacobs picked up his children from Duck, Jesse and Leslie walked out to the beach and came across Grace and Eric partly hidden in a dune, laughing and tickling each other playfully. Leslie immediately steered her boyfriend away when she saw he was going to say something. A hundred yards down the beach, she elbowed him.

"Don't you dare, Jess! Let her have fun."

"But…but his hands!"

"What about them? They're just fooling around."

"Alright, alright." Jesse took Leslie's hand and they started walking, but he again noticed the wild look in her eyes and had come to discover it was not the herald of things pleasant. "I can't believe they're leaving," Jesse said, trying to find a neutral topic. "It won't be the same."

"Yeah...Did _Grace_ say where their father was being stationed?"

"The Pentagon," he answered warily. "That's not too far, we'll keep in contact." Jesse's statement came out more as a wish than a fact. "At least they'll be here for your baptism next spring."

Leslie stopped abruptly, and Jesse saw the look again. He groaned to himself.

"Jess, I'm not sure if I'm going to continue with the R.C.I.C. program. I'm only getting more confused and…I don't know…"

Hurt, but not surprised, given Leslie's recent odd behavior, Jesse tried to plead with her. "But you haven't _had_ a lesson in two months! Please don't give up, Les, it means a lot to me."

Leslie released Jesse's hand and folded her arms defensively. "_I thought this was supposed to be about me, not you._"

"_It is!_ I mean, it's about both of _us_."

Leslie frowned. "I don't know, Jess. There's been too much going on between _us_, and all the changes with our friends. I don't feel very much like committing myself to something so different right now."

Jesse looked away for a couple seconds to think, but only got angry when he reran Leslie's words through his head. "What do you mean 'things going on between us'? Is it because of what happened…at the pond…before you left?"

"_No, Jess!_ We've been over that, and I _don't_ want that to…to become an issue between us!" she snapped. But Leslie was unable to tell him how it had drawn her closer, for she was being distracted by a growing annoyance with her best friend, something that seemed to be happening almost constantly now. And when Jesse continued to glare at her, she barked again. "I was talking about you and Grace, and me and J.B., and how we never, _ever_ would have done that before. I don't want anything to change between us, you _know_ that."

Jesse calmed, now angrier with himself for upsetting Leslie, something he'd been doing a lot of that day. "Yeah, sorry." But suddenly he didn't feel at all sorry. The entire conversation was turning out like so many others they'd had all week: chaotic and unpredictable. Leslie seemed to begin a comment feeling one way and finish it feeling differently.

The tension prompted both to turn back to the beach house shortly thereafter, neither really trying to clear the air: Leslie because she was not able to identify her feelings, Jesse because he didn't know what he'd done wrong. Reaching the path to the house, they saw Grace sitting alone, looking happily out to sea. Jesse said he was going to talk to her and would be in shortly.

Walking off, Leslie's eyes again flashed wildly, but this time Jesse missed it completely.

He greeted his younger friend and jumped up to the ledge she was sitting on. "So...? Is Eric a good kisser?" he teased.

Grace opened her mouth to reply but saw her friend's mischievous grin and thought better of her answer. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Come on, Gracie, I have no interest at all in the way Eric kisses."

They laughed.

"Have a good week?" asked Jesse after a minute of silence, staring at the surf.

"The best."

"You were awesome on the hang-glider the other day. I think Les is jealous."

"Yeah, right!" She pointed at Jesse's forearm. "Your wrist ok now?"

"Yep, wasn't much." He held it up and shook his forearm, letting the hand flop back and forth in front of Grace's face until she pushed it away. "Does your boyfriend leave tomorrow, too?"

"Yes..._who said he was my boyfriend?_"

"I figured, you two up here making-out like that. It'll take a week for that hicky to heal."

Grace slapped a hand to her neck in horror. "He never kissed my _neck_!_ Oh, you! _Don't tell Tommy_, please!_"

Jesse laughed and told Grace it took him two years to kiss Leslie's neck. Pretending to be shocked, Grace started punching his arm.

"You're terrible, Aarons! Just like Tommy. I hate you!"

"No you don't," he laughed back. "So, now that you've admitted to kissing, how was it?"

"What are you, some sort of pervert?" she asked, punching him one more time.

"Ouch! Just looking out for you, Gracie," he said with unconvincing sincerity.

She gave him a doubting look. "No, you've been around my brother too much. You're just looking for a juicy story." Jesse gave her a hurt look and she started laughing. "Ok, ok, your intentions were honest." Grace stopped, smiling shyly at her friend. "Yeah, it was nice, Jess." And although she didn't say it, Jesse could tell it had been a lot more fun with Eric than it had been with him, and he was genuinely happy for her.

They sat quietly for a while before Grace spoke again. "What's Les upset about? You two have a fight?"

"Kinda. I'm not really sure. Maybe she's upset by you guys leaving."

"Maybe."

"It'll blow over."

"Jess? Go be with her. I'm sure you being out here with me isn't helping things."

Jesse started. It was the first time either had referenced how their summer _relationship_ might have affected Leslie. "Ok, maybe you're right." He began to get up but stopped and sat down again, looking at his friend, wondering what she was thinking – wondering what _HE_ was thinking. "Gracie, I'm really going to miss you, and Tom, and I know Les is, too." He leaned over and gave her a very brief one-armed hug, then got up, threw Grace's long, damp ponytails over the front of her head, and ran off.

On the way back to the house he speculated if, perhaps, it was better they _were_ moving away: _Something's still not right between Leslie and Grace_. And as for himself, he recalled the truthfulness of Grace's comments just before they had kissed weeks earlier: _"I think…it's not good…it's hard for friends like us…to be like this…so close."_ He kicked one of the rotting pieces of driftwood laying aside the path and bent over in pain. It wasn't as rotten as he'd expected.

_Get your crap together, Aarons, and stop assuming things..._

The beach house was quiet when Jesse entered, except for the TV Tom was watching, but even that was low.

"Les's dad is putting the kid to sleep," Tom said. "Did you see Gracie?"

Smiling, Jesse nodded. "She'll be in shortly."

Tom looked back to the TV, almost as if ignoring him. Then he seemed to think better of his behavior. "Jess, what happened between you and Les?"

"Huh? Nothing."

"She came in looking furious and dragged her mother off somewhere."

_Oh, crap!_

"Oh, um, maybe she was mad at me because...it's Thursday. Who knows?" He was going to say _it was because I was talking to Grace_, but thought it better not to say that to her brother. He sat down with Tom to watch some of the twenty-four hour Jackass Marathon, but it didn't last long. In the background he heard voices. Female voices. Leslie and her mother's voices. When it stopped, Jesse saw Tom was watching him.

"What?"

Shaking his head, Tom went back to the show.

Jesse got up and went to one of the empty rooms, as far from anyone he could make himself. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that wouldn't go away.

* * *

Upstairs in the master bedroom, Judy Burke was trying to counsel her obstinate daughter, but so far, little seemed to make an impression on her. In fact, Leslie was starting to show signs of the same hysterical behavior she had displayed nearly a month earlier, and it deeply concerned her mother. The current rant was about how Jesse wanted to 'spend the evening' with Grace instead of her. Judy picked at Leslie's accusation until she uncovered the truth, and saw it was far from her original story. Confronting her daughter with this fact only agitated her more. She was beginning to think Leslie was intentionally creating stories so she could be mad at Jesse.

_It's almost as if she wanted an excuse to... No, she wouldn't, would she?_

In as reasonable a voice as she could muster, Judy challenged her daughter again. "Leslie, what is it you want from Jess? I thought you two had talked through your issues?"

But like most other reasonable questions asked, Leslie refused to talk about it and got up to leave. Judy grabbed her arm and asked where she was going. The reply was sarcastic and hateful, and described her planto do things with Tom Jacobs she had never done with Jesse Aarons. Judy jumped up and blocked her way.

"Go straight to bed, young lady. Use one of these upstairs rooms, I'll get your things. And you are _not_ to speak with your friends until you've calmed down and can say three rational words in a row. _DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?_" The shout finally seemed to get through to Leslie. Her bottom lip quivering, she left quickly; Judy heard a bedroom door slam shut a few second later.

The following morning, Leslie appeared for breakfast, but said almost nothing. Only when Tom and Grace left a couple hours later did she utter a bored sounding _goodbye_ that got her mother's ire up and was obviously hurtful to Grace. Then she walked inside.

"Want me to talk to her, Mrs. Burke?" asked Jesse.

She shrugged. By his looks, she could tell he had gotten little sleep that night. "Sure, give it a try. But Jess, be careful." Jesse wanted to ask what he should be careful about, instead he smiled weakly and went to find his girlfriend. Later, Judy wished she had stopped him.

Leslie was in the billiards room on the first floor, rolling the pool balls around the table; when she saw Jesse she barely acknowledged him until he asked her what was wrong. She answered clearly and precisely, there was no shouting, no tears when she spoke, but she made it clear that everything was over between them.

This declaration was so completely unexpected and shocking that Jesse laughed until he saw she was absolutely serious. _And that wild look again... _"Why, Les?" Jesse asked, feeling his heart beating abnormally fast as the realization of what was happening hit him.

"Because you can't get your mind off of Grace, that's why. I've seen you watching her all week. _Shit_, Jesse, you _leer_ at her every time she runs out of the water, like you're hoping her top falls off. You don't even look at _me_ like that any more!"

_HUH? I'd much rather see..._ "Les...that's _not _true. I look at you all the time," he pleaded. _Far more than Grace! _"M-Maybe you just don't see me."

"I can see you just fine," she retorted angrily.

"Les, why are you saying these things? You know how I feel about you...about us. Are you...I don't know, having hormone issues?"

Leslie's eyes flared and her face reddened. This was not a good sign.

"Don't you _DARE_ try to blame _your_ actions on me, Jesse Aarons. Is _anything_ I said not true?"

Finally losing his temper, Jesse jumped up and shouted, "_YES! NOTHING YOU'VE SAID IS TRUE. I _DON'T_ LIKE GRACE MORE THAN YOU. HOW CAN YOU SAY ALL THESE THINGS?_" Panting heavily, and seeing no retreat in his now ex-girlfriend, Jesse lit into her again. "_AND YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK? I THINK IT'S _YOU_ WHO'S LOOKING ELSEWHERE, NOT ME. I WAS ALWAYS HONEST WITH YOU ABOUT WHAT WENT ON WITH GRACE AND ME. YOU HID WHAT YOU AND J.B. DID, AND YOU'RE PROBABLY STILL NOT TELLING ME THE TRUTH. AND I BET YOU'RE JUST GETTING RID OF ME SO YOU AND...TOM CAN HAVE FUN TOGETHER._"

"_THAT'S NOT TRUE! AND YOU'VE BEEN LYING TO ME FOR _TWO WEEKS_. I KNOW YOU AND TOM KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH BARB AND HER FAMILY. I _KNOW_ IT, YOU'RE A TERRIBLE LIAR, JESSE. WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME?_"

Jesse closed his eyes and tried the old _count-to-ten_ method for calming down, but he only made it to six before losing control again. He put his face right in front of hers and roared, "_GOD YOU'RE DUMB AS DIRT, LESLIE! YOU KNOW THAT? IF I'M SUCH A TERRIBLE LIAR THEN WHY CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TELLING THE _TRUTH_ ABOUT GRACE?_"

They paused for a few seconds to catch their breath and wipe off the tears both were spilling, then the shouting resumed for a few more minutes, becoming more divisive and passionate, neither willing to back down. It sounded as if four years of annoyances were being released in one gigantic burst. In the background, Jimmy was crying; Bill and Judy, at the top off the stairs, listened on in shock. Then it finally ended.

"_TELL ME THE TRUTH!_" Leslie screamed.

"_I HAVE! I DON'T LOVE ANYONE BUT YOU. WHY WON'T YOU..._"

"_NOT THAT! I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT _YOU _FEEL! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE KEANES?_"

Jesse flopped on the sofa, numb, reeling, too angry and upset to reply immediately. He thought he had never hated someone more in his life than he did Leslie Burke right that moment. He was so consumed with his emotions he thought seriously about making up a salacious story about him and Grace just to hurt her.

But he couldn't.

Emotionally, mentally, and physically stunned by their brief but intense fight, Jesse gave up and prepared to tell the story Leslie thought she wanted to hear so badly. Still able to see in his mind the Roanoke Sentinel's headline, he began.

"The parents are in jail and may be deported to Ireland to face criminal charges. All the kids are in foster care until everything's sorted out. Mr. Keane was…abusing the girls and," he choked up, "selling pictures of them. That's where all their money came from. Do you want me to go on?" Jesse finished nastily.

"Where are the girls?" Leslie asked.

"I _told_ you, they're in foster care."

Jesse watched as Leslie started crying, but he was unable to get up the emotional strength to comfort her, and he just plain didn't want to, either. Instead, he left and went upstairs to an empty bedroom to be alone and contemplate how his life had just ended; he didn't notice Leslie's parents standing in the hallway at the top of the stairs as he walked away; he missed their deep expressions of concern for him; and he could not have seen their deeper alarm for their daughter's completely irrational state of mind and actions. Hormones did not seem to be a sufficient explanation for what had been going on with her the past two months.

* * *

Since they were leaving the next morning, Bill thought there was no point in rushing home that evening. He spent time with Jesse, as much as the adolescent would allow, but it was obvious the boy was completely devastated, and Bill worried about Jesse's mental health, being so soon after all the traumatic events of the previous year. But even his compassion and genuine affection for the boy, who had become like a second son to him, was not enough. Jesse withdrew into a shell and tuned-out everything from the outside for a few hours. It was mid-afternoon before he appeared again, looking scared and lost, not at all the blossoming young man who had fallen in love with their daughter.

Bill and Judy, on their part, felt physically ill and helpless. There was, by their initial assessment, clearly something wrong with Leslie, but unable to get her to speak, all their efforts at understanding the situation were useless. After talking a while and trying to calm Jimmy, who was looking around apprehensively for his sister, Bill left to call Jesse's parents.

The Aarons' phone was answered by Mary, and Bill was glad for that, at least. He briefly explained what had happened, apologizing constantly, and answering the few questions Mary asked. When finished, he took the mobile to Jesse.

"Jess, are you ok," his mother asked as kindly as she could, but knowing the reply would not be good.

"No," he whispered back softly. His mother could hear him sniffling, for understandable reasons.

"Jess, if you want, I'll come and get you right now."

"No, thanks anyway, we're leaving tomorrow morning. Would you please do me a favor, Mom? Call Dr. Carlson back and see if you can get my appointment moved up."

"All right, Jess." Suddenly bereft of anything to say, Mary asked if he wanted to speak with his father.

"No…is Ellie there?"

Mary cringed. "I'm sorry, Jess, she's working. Want me to have her call you later?"

"No, I'll talk to her tomorrow." Mary thought she heard Jesse sob again, and he abruptly said goodbye, not wishing to talk any further.

Bill returned and sat with Jess for a while. It was heart wrenching to listen to the teen in such utter despair; he thought he had never seen such a pathetic sight since… _since he was separated from Judy by their parents at this same age_. Memories, long buried, surfaced and threatened to consume the adult, and he had to leave for a few minutes to think through things. One fact he felt certain about was that his daughter was not pregnant, though he knew it might explain much of what was happening. He would mention it to his wife who kept closer tabs on signs of things like that.

As soon as Jesse hung up, Mary Aarons dialed Dr. Carlson's number; she hadn't forgotten it from the years before. The answering service asked if the situation was an emergency and she hesitated. "No," she finally replied. Jesse was out of town for more than another day so she was put through to the psychiatrist's voicemail.

"Hi Dr. Carlson, this is Mary Aarons, Jess Aarons' mother. Jess has an appointment with you a week from Monday. Is there any chance you could see him sooner, maybe tomorrow evening or Monday morning? Something has happened…"

Carlson called back less than an hour after Mary had ended her message. She explained the situation and was told to bring Jesse in the following evening. Sunday.

While this was going on, Judy tried, unsuccessfully, to talk to Leslie again. She was far calmer than a half-hour before, reinforcing the predominant hypothesis that she was suffering more from acute hormonal problems than anything else, but it would be days, if not weeks before that could be determined, medically. What Judy began to work on is getting to the bottom of her daughter's desire to break-up with Jesse. She had always known a split-up was possible, perhaps even inevitable, but certainly not for the reasons Leslie had given, and that was the crux of the issue.

_What is she keeping from us? _

_Does she even know herself?_

After again getting nowhere with Leslie, Judy called their family doctor, Rose Spelling, and left a message briefly describing her daughter's erratic behavior, and practically begging for an early appointment Monday morning. With the message complete, Judy began to pack. It was going to be a long, tense ride home. Fortunately, they had two cars.

The next morning, both Bill and Judy observed the kids' behavior to see if there was any change; there was, but none of it positive. Leslie all but ignored Jesse, while herself acting as if she was unaffected by what had occurred. As they packed, it was obvious that they had to separate the kids, so Bill sent Judy ahead with Jesse to get him home as soon as possible, as well as away from his ex-girlfriend. He would stay behind and finish the packing with Leslie, who continued to act oblivious to anything not directly related to her.

Judy was at a loss for what to do with the boy over the next few hours. At times, Jesse appeared catatonic, at others she could tell he was silently crying, and more than once she joined him. But her concern for Jesse was being obscured by a deeper apprehension about her daughter. There was part of Judy that speculated, and not without justification, that the kids' break was so traumatic to Jesse because they had been so intensely close for almost four years. But then why wasn't Leslie upset? At times, she appeared completely disinterested in Jesse, and this lack of concern for her best friend, if not her ex-boyfriend, was even more puzzling. If she wanted to break off a romance, that was one thing, but this went far deeper.

_But, perhaps, this is all she knows how to do…_

Deep down inside, however, Judy Burke knew that that was not the reason, she simply didn't have another logical one. Not that anything over the past two months with her daughter had been very logical.

She thought of something Bill had brought up the previous night and got Jesse's attention.

"Jess, I promise I won't be upset with you, no matter how you answer this, but is there any way you and…is there any way Leslie could be pregnant?"

"No," he said immediately. There was no hostility or rancor in the answer, just a simple statement of fact.

"Thank you, Jess. I didn't think so, but it might explain some of Leslie's symptoms."

Jesse sniffled and asked quietly, "What do you mean, 'symptoms'? She's not sick, she just hates me."

"Jess…"

"Mrs. Burke, she _hates_ me, and I _know it_. No one would say the things to me she did if she didn't hate me... And I hate her, too." The finality of his last statement was completed by Jesse turning away and staring out the window. But a minute later he added one last disturbing comment. "If Leslie's pregnant, I didn't have anything to do with it."

Judy let the subject drop, but she fully believed Jesse. Of course, that meant that if Leslie _was_ pregnant, it probably happened in Europe, and almost certainly with J.B.. For a moment, Judy felt faint and started to pull over, but the complete absurdity of this line of reasoning was obvious and she refused to entertain it any longer. _Leslie was not pregnant_, she only showed some of the behavior of being so, and of being in denial.

_God, what a mess._

When Judy pulled in front of the Aarons' house early that evening, she saw Mary and Ellie on the porch, both looking deeply concerned. She had heard that Ellie and Jesse had become close over the summer, and it eased her mind a bit; she believed the sibling might have an easier time comforting him than the parent.

Jesse quietly thanked Judy and made straight for the house; Ellie followed him while Mary went to talk to her friend. When she first arrived at the car, she thought Judy looked more upset than her son, but Judy got out and hugged Mary long and hard, though no words could be found to say what seemed adequate for the situation. When they broke apart, Mary linked her arm with Judy's and led her down the drive to talk. It was two hours before they returned.

Ellie followed her brother into his room without a word and saw, upon closer inspection, that he looked far worse than he had at the Burke's house a month earlier. She was actually afraid for him. His eyes were dead and sunken, bloodshot from crying, and with dark rings indicating much lost sleep. When she sat with him on the bed and put her arm around his shoulder, it was obvious he was on the verge of complete collapse. May looked into the room just then, but Jesse didn't see her, Ellie motioned for her to get Jesse a drink and she immediately ran off, returning shortly with a glass of fruit punch Gatorade, Jesse's favorite, setting it on the nightstand. Ellie mouthed a thank you and politely shooed her off.

"Jess, do you want to talk?"

He just shook his head and began crying quietly. It didn't last long, however, he fell asleep in a minute or two. Ellie got his shirt, socks, and shoes off, and lay him down on the bed with a sheet as a cover. Looking at her little brother, Ellie's heart was moved so deeply she couldn't leave and she repeated her actions from the previous month. Collecting her blanked and pillow, she lay on the floor next to the bed.

Thinking of Toby did not keep her awake this time, it was memories of a time years earlier when she was in a relationship with a senior in high school that ended up much like her brother's, though for different reasons. It had been a quick, intense romance, back when she was still an underclassman, and also one of the worst three months of her life. Ignoring frequent warnings about the boy from those who knew him, she lost her virginity on their second date and proceeded to make certain few weekends went by where they didn't meet in the woods across the creek, often at night, in the bed of an old rusting pickup, and copulate until exhaustion more than prudence sent them home. When she finally realized how completely she was being used, the fall was long and hard, but she kept it secret from the rest of her family, (though Brenda _had_ suspected). Her parents chalked it up to her usual bitchy behavior. Even now, years later, it brought bile up into Ellie's throat thinking about the abuse she had gladly endured for what, she later learned, was _very_ third-rate sex.

Ellie was virtually certain (and happy) that her brother and Leslie had not been _intimate_, a correct judgment based on his comments over the past few weeks. But she saw a similarity between both her own and Jesse's reaction to breaking up: Both had been so completely consumed by their respective relationship that the abrupt severing was far more than an emotional shock.

Unfortunately, there was only one week remaining for her to do anything, she knew. Radford University started class in early September, and she had paid for, with half of all her hard-earned money, room, board, and tuition for the year – and the first chance to get away from Lark Creek – and be on her own. Listening to her brother's deep breaths, she made a decision she never thought she would make for anyone but herself…or maybe Toby. The next day, if Jesse weren't better, she would quit her full-time job to be around the house for him. It seemed a trivial gesture, in some ways, but he had to know of the support and..._love_, she had for him. With a peaceful feeling settling in her heart, Eleanor Marie Aarons sat up, checked on her brother, and then drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Early Sunday evening, Jesse found himself in Dr. Barry Carlson's Roanoke office, staring dumbly at a drawing he had given the man a year and a half earlier. Outside the door, he could hear his mother talking with the doctor, though the words were muted and unintelligible. When Carlson entered a minute later, Jesse felt unable to talk, something that had never been a problem between him and the psychiatrist. Fortunately, the expert was ready for this.

"Jess, I understand the last few days have been pretty crummy for you. Why don't you tell me what's been happening?"

Jesse looked up and saw the man was waiting, and listening, so he told him everything from the start of the summer going forward. The words spilled out freely, their progression to more intimate kissing, his more frequent lustful thoughts, even the admission of trying to _touch_ Leslie, all of which were pronounced normal by the doctor. They also talked about sexual intimacy, and if Jesse felt they had been heading in that direction, or had reached it.

When the narrative came to the last two days at the beach, Jesse noticed he'd already been talking over an hour, but the doctor made no move to indicate their time was up. This was one of the things that endeared the man to Jesse: his commitment to his patients' wellbeing.

The next hour was spent discussing the specifics of the break-up and Leslie's abrupt changes in opinion, behavior, and habit. Then following a quick bio-break, and grabbing a couple sodas and bags of chips, Carlson returned to his office to find Jesse again staring, but his face pensive. He set the snacks down and went back out to speak with Mary. She immediately asked the obvious question: "Is Jess ok?"

"No, Mary, strictly speaking he's not at all ok. He's depressed, profoundly confused, terribly hurt: I could go on a while longer but you get the idea. The most encouraging thing I can say is that he's talking freely, and everything he's told me jives with the stories you told me through the girl's mother." He paused, looking a little distracted. "Mary, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to do for Jess tonight. I will be sending you home with some sleeping pills, and you need to keep them away from Jess when he's awake..."

"Why? You think he might...?"

Carlson held up a hand to stop the obvious question. "It's only been fifteen months since Jess was in the hospital. You, Jack, and I talked through this back then, if you recall, about how Leslie's friendship was going to be a two-edged sword. He's had almost four years of everything going fantastic between them, but now that he's being cut by the other side of that blade... Well, he's not able to cope with it."

"But then why is Leslie so calm about all this?" asked Mary angrily.

"Yes, that concerns me, but we need to deal with Jess first. Does he have other good friends?"

Mary told the doctor about the Jacobs, and their plans to move. She also mentioned the Keane family bitterly.

"Oh, yes, I read about that. Horrible situation for those poor kids." Carlson looked into his office, certain he had put the two folders away. He was working with the second and third oldest Keane girls, and it was a bloody mess.

"What about _you_ talking to Les?" Mary ventured. Carlson shook his head no. "I didn't think so."

"Sorry, Mary, that's a big no-no in these situations. Of course, if her parents need a reference I'd be glad to help."

They chatted for a few more minutes before he returned to the therapy room. Jesse was snacking - a good sign - and looked calmer.

"Sorry, Jess, I needed to talk..."

"It's ok." Dr. Carlson sat, surprised at Jesse's interruption; he had almost never done that before. "I was wondering. I know you don't know Leslie, except for what I've told you, but could she be sick?"

"Jess, that's impossible for me to..." He was interrupted again.

"I _know_! but do her actions sound like a normal person's?"

Carlson took a sip of his drink and thought about how to answer the question and not make it seem like he was diagnosing the girl. The problem, based on what Jesse and his mother had said, was that he was quite certain there _was_ a pathological cause for Leslie's behavior. The wild mood swings, changes in long established habits, weight gain, insecurity, and outbursts of angry – even hateful comments – these were not normal adolescent behaviors, even in the most liberal understanding of _normal behavior_ for teens. Adding to that the timing of the symptoms, and that they were getting worse, Carlson hoped the Burke's had a good family physician.

"Jess, I simply can't say. It would be like you trying to evaluate one of my paintings using only my own description of it."

"Ok," he sighed. "What can I do, Dr. Carlson?"

"What do you _want_ to do, Jess?"

"I don't rightly know. At times I wish I'd never met her, but mostly I just miss her, and hurt everywhere."

"Ok, son, let's do this. First, you have to accept that no one can change Leslie except...who?"

"Leslie."

"Right, so I would recommend you don't try. I want you to put together a plan for the next week. School starts soon and I bet you need to shop for clothes and supplies. Get out and do it, no matter how horrible you feel. Take your younger sister and help her, too. Activity will keep your mind occupied on things other than where it's been the past few days, and that's what you need."

Carlson talked with his patient a while longer, but Jesse started to nod off, another good sign, and after almost three hours he called an end to the session. He made an appointment for later that week, if needed, walked to the car with Jesse and his mother, and watched them drive off. As soon as they were out of sight, he pulled out his mobile phone and called another local doctor at her home number.

"Rose, this is Barry Carlson. I'm sending over some information about a girl I heard you'll be seeing this week, name of Leslie Burke... That's right, yes, his daughter... I'd rather not say, it's borderline unethical, if you get my drift... Yes, a damn good reason... Yes, I know I'm a pain-in-the-ass busybody... Yes, I know that, too... Let's not get carried away, Rose... Ok, thanks. Bye."

Carlson closed his mobile phone and stood in the warm summer night air, thinking about what he'd just done. It was as far as he could legally go, maybe even a little bit _too_ far. But this was one of those rare times he found himself hoping, _praying_, that the young woman his patient knew was physically ill: More diseases of the body are easier to repair than diseases of the mind.

A couple days later, Leslie had her own appointment with Dr. Rose Spelling. Unlike Jesse, however, she was more than reluctant to go until her mother lied and told her it was only for a high school physical. She muttered something about not playing any sports but put up no further protests. Arriving in Roanoke one week before classes began, Judy waited patiently for her daughter to finish. When she reappeared an hour later, rubbing her arm from receiving a hepatitis inoculation and looking highly irritated, the doctor asked to speak with "Leslie Burke's mother or father." Judy followed her into an office.

"Hello Mrs. Burke, nice to meet you," the doctor said politely, shaking hands and inviting her guest to seat. "I don't believe your daughter suspected anything."

"Thank you for keeping up this charade, I didn't want Les to know this was as much a psych consult as a physical. Did you find anything?"

"Yes, and no. Physically, she is in good shape except for a couple things: her blood pressure is a little high for a fourteen year old, and your observation about weight gain. It looks like she's put on about ten pounds since the beginning of the summer. Leslie noticed that, too, and mentioned it, though she didn't seem concerned about it."

"She runs track and cross-country, I guess she thinks she'll run it off during the year," Judy pointed out.

"Ok. Mrs. Burke…"

"Please call me Judy."

The doctor smiled, but retained her professional front. "Judy, we also drew blood for a normal battery of tests, things like mono, diabetes, leukemia, and toxins." When toxins were mentioned, Judy spoke up immediately.

"My daughter isn't on drugs. Not Leslie. Impossible."

"What about birth control pills?"

"_What?_" Judy asked, not believing what she'd heard.

"Is she on The Pill?"

"_NO!_ And she had migraines, so we never really considered them, and she's not…active, sexually."

"That migraine-BC Pill myth was shot down years ago, Judy. Are you absolutely certain she's not on the pill? I would explain the weight gain and possibly some other things."

"Yes. I _know_ Leslie. We have our differences but she's always come to me for advice on those sorts of things."

"Have you checked?"

"No...It sounds like you think I should."

The doctor nodded. "This would hardly be the first time a child has duped a parent."

Judy sighed. "Alright, I'll look."

"Good. Now as for the psych exam, this has me more concerned. You mentioned radical mood swings and changing opinions or stories?"

Judy explained her observations and gave examples of the disturbing behavior Leslie had shown to Jesse and others, and how it was becoming more frequent and less rational. When finished, the doctor sat back and asked a number of questions about Leslie's relationship with Jesse, taking a few notes and making lots of curious facial expressions.

"I think what we should do for now is wait for the test results and monitor your daughter. Let me know if the situation degrades."

Though feeling unsatisfied, Judy agreed, left, and drove herself and Leslie back to Lark Creek. There was little conversation, but what was exchanged remained polite. She also tried to find out if Leslie was planning on running cross-country that fall, but received only silence in response to her inquiry. And when she turned Leslie's bed and bathroom inside out the next day, she found no sign of any drug besides Tylenol.

* * *

The final days of summer vacation were difficult for both families. At first, the parents had agreed they should give the kids a few more days to see if it blew over. But Bill and Judy had heard Leslie's last comment to Jesse: "_I DON'T CARE ABOUT _YOU"; Jack and Mary had not. So it became a quest to work on Leslie to find the cause of the problem, a task made difficult by her unwillingness to say much more than, "Please pass the carrots." One late September day followed another and the only thing resolved was that the Bill would drive the kids to school.

Ellie, as planned, quit her job a week early and spent many hours with her brother, distracting him, driving him, May, and Joyce Ann around for school supplies, and just being there for him. As the week progressed, one could notice Jesse coming out of his depression, though he never lost the lonely look. Tom Jacobs called later in the week, but Jesse didn't talk to him very long or tell him what had happened, pessimistically assuming he would try to move in on Leslie now that she wasn't attached. For Jesse's part, even the thought of being near another girl gave him stomach cramps…even being around Grace…_especially_ being around Grace. He wished he could talk to Barb Keane, as a friend, but that was now impossible, and while on good terms, he had never been particularly close with the Silliard twins.

The Friday before Labor Day weekend, Jesse helped Ellie pack and load the pickup for the trip to Radford; the next morning, he and his father would help her move into her dorm. While packing, they would catch each other's eyes now and then, and Jesse's spirits would sink. Ellie had been a Godsend all summer and he would miss her terribly. That last night together, they stayed up until the early morning hours Saturday, talking and trying to cheer each other up, for Ellie was a little apprehensive about her departure, too. Around three Saturday morning, brother and sister fell asleep together in her bed. Mary Aarons found her children later that morning and thanked God for the friendship they had developed over the summer. Both benefitted from it more than they realized.

At Radford late that same morning, after all Ellie's things were moved in, the brother and sister stood embracing, both afraid to let go. But their father needed to return home so they traded a few insults to lighten their hearts and said one last goodbye. Then Ellie went to her father, embraced him – something she seldom did - and told him to watch out for Jesse. Jack nodded and assured her he would.

When he returned home, Jesse went for a long walk by himself, into the woods, along the creek, and finally jumped across the water into the overgrown woods he and Leslie had once played in. Terabithia. But no magic kingdom appeared, no squogres, no castle, and no mountains with towering waterfalls. The woods were alive, but Terabithia was dead, and he felt dead, too: spiritually empty, emotionally depleted, and physically drained. Walking back to the creek he found the place where Leslie had fallen in years before. The water was low, and the remains of the rock on which Leslie had struck her head, and he had partly destroyed, were clearly visible. Looking up he could see the rub mark on the branch where the rope had hung for years.

_How easy it would be_, he thought, _I'd just fall and it would all be over._

The never-ending ache in his chest seemed to suddenly intensify as he remembered breathing life back into his best friend, and he began to weep. He thought he'd gotten over this much of the pain, but it had hit him hard, without warning, and there simply was no more energy to fight back.

Then two strong hands clamping around his arms.

"Steady, Jess," a familiar voice said.


	43. Part 5: The Diagnosis

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 43 – The Diagnosis**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_Unfortunately, this is not a dream...it's a nightmare..._

Jesse stood on his chair in the cafeteria and the ribald comments and crude chatter quieted down quickly. All eyes turned to him as he scowled at Fulcher, face bright red. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but it would make their other exchanges over the years sound pleasant.

"Fulcher, at least _I_ go out with girls, unlike you who has to peep in windows and over fences to get yourself excited...when you're not exciting yourself, that is." The insult came out perfectly smoothly. Jesse was tempted to continue, upon hearing the cheers and clapping, but Tom was trying to get his attention. When he looked around, he saw some adults heading into the cafeteria. Jumping down, Jesse missed the expression of hatred on Scott Fulcher's face as those around him laughed, threw trash, and made suggestive male-oriented hand gestures at the bully.

"_Jeez, Jess_, that was hitting below the belt," Tom said quietly, smiling; but his tone was that of complete delight.

The rest of the day passed without incident, but in fact, the scene at lunch had had a powerful effect on those who witnessed the exchange. Many present had been at school with Jesse Aarons for years and known him as a quiet, shy boy. This Jesse Aarons, however, was very different, and they liked what they saw: someone willing to stand up to a known bully, with humor - and without violence. The ultimate results of the brief verbal exchange would move Jesse into areas he never believed he could experience. But that's in the future.

When seventh period was about to start, Jesse, already in the room, watched Leslie enter, survey the seating, and take a desk three rows over from him. He ventured a single glance her way but she was opening a binder and their eyes did not meet.

_Just as well..._

Fifty minutes later, with classes finished for the day, Jesse came up behind Leslie, who was standing at the student drop-off/pick-up, waiting for her father. Unable to tolerate the silence between them any longer he hazarded a simple question: "How was your first day?"

When Leslie didn't answer immediately, Jesse started getting angry and was about to curse, but then she turned and said, "Oh, it was fine, thank you."

He scowled when Leslie again turned away.

"_Did she forget my name, too?"_ he mumbled under his breath.

Bill Burke could tell by looking at the two kids when they climbed in the car that nothing had changed over the past seven hours. He said little on the way home, Leslie read, and Jesse looked over the permission form to run JV cross-country. When Jesse was dropped off in front of his house, no words were exchanged between the kids.

As Mr. Burke and Leslie drive off, Jesse heaved a sigh of relief.

_So much for my first day in high school._

* * *

"Steady, Jess," the voice of Jack Aarons said as he gently pulled his son back from the edge of the creek. "Let's sit over here a while." The father led his son to a fallen tree and sat beside him. Embarrassed by his inability to stop crying, Jesse tried to hide his face. Jack Aarons, put an arm around his shoulder and sat quietly until he felt the boy calming down.

"I guess I blew it, Dad...me and Leslie," Jesse finally said.

"How do you figure that, son?"

"I...well, all that happened this summer, with me and Grace." Jesse sniffled and his father handed him a handkerchief. "I guess I'm just not good enough for someone like her."

"Son, that's B.S., all of it. You didn't really do nothing _wrong_ with Grace, I heard the story, you were just trying to be a friend. And you sure _are_ good enough for Leslie. Why do you want to blame everything on yourself? Even Bill and Judy Burke know something's wrong with that girl."

"_What?_" Jesse exclaimed. This was the first time he'd heard his or Leslie's parents say such a thing.

"You _don't_ think she's acting normal, do you?"

He didn't. "Well...no, but I reckoned it was because of me."

"The fact is, son, no one knows why she's acting this way. She may not even know, Bill said."

Jesse didn't respond, but felt an enormous weight lifted from his heart. At the same time, however, there was the realization that, one way or another, something bad was going on. He also knew that after the hateful things they had said to each other, the relationship might never be the same, even if they decided to forgive and forget.

"What should I do, Dad? I hurt so much. Part of me hates Leslie and part still…likes her."

"You said that Dr. Carlson told you to stay busy; keep your mind active." Jack scratched a half-day growth of whiskers and continued. "I have a lot of chores you could do that will keep you plenty busy."

Jesse looked over to his father and saw he was kidding, but then surprised him with his response: "Ok, Dad, what do you need done?"

Jesse's routine the next two days consisted of work, work, and more work, giving new meaning to the _labor_ of Labor Day. He knew that Dr. Carlson's suggestion about keeping himself busy really was the best relief he could hope for, and with Ellie now gone he would have to rely more upon himself to find things to occupy his time. Yet, even with the daytime reprieve from the pain of separation, Jesse still lay in bed at night and thought of his ex-best friend and battled with doubts about who caused the break.

But then the apprehension and anticipation of starting high school began to creep into his mind Monday afternoon. By the time Tuesday morning rolled around, and he stood outside waiting for Bill Burke to pick him up, Jesse had to constantly battle his growing desire to run and hide from everything. He even hoped that Leslie might speak to him in the car and they could share their mutual fears, but she was utterly silent.

* * *

The first week of ninth grade passed in a blur of activity and confusion for Jesse, and most other ninth graders at Lark Creek High School. However, after the scene in the cafeteria, he found himself quite the center of attention, particularly among his former classmates from elementary school. Then word started getting around that he had worked with the 'famous author Bill Burke' and everyone wanted to be his friend.

Well, _almost_ everyone.

Jesse's 'fame' at being a professional illustrator had never been widely known in elementary school, though some had been aware of his work. And even after his tour in England years earlier, where he and Leslie had made a minor headline, her being Bill Burke's daughter had been largely ignored, and his association with her was seldom brought up. But in high school everything changed, for both of them. Jesse had seen some of this in the previous two years, but noticed now, much more than then, how boys would approach Leslie for her personality, good looks, and assumed wealth. In the past, his presence had been enough to dissuade potential suitors. That was no longer the case and he spent far more time than would be considered healthy watching guys of all ages flirt with her. The fact that she refused to even acknowledge him made this even more painful. Eventually Tom caught on to Jesse's masochistic behavior and dragged him away from the distressing scenes.

* * *

The Aarons were surprised Friday evening, the second weekend of September, when Ellie's boyfriend, Toby, appeared at their door in army fatigues asking to see her. He knew she was home, gathering the last of her things and enjoying a couple home-cooked meals. When Mary called up to her daughter that she had a visitor, the eldest child flew down the stairs and launched herself at the less-than-surprised suitor. After a minute of rather passionate kissing (and a little groping which prompted Mary to lead her husband back into the family room,) the two broke apart and Ellie led Toby to her parents.

"You're out of basic early, aren't you, Toby?" Jack Aarons asked with a touch of concern.

"No, sir. All BT has been shortened to ten weeks to get the troops to the METO faster, that's the Middle East Theatre of Operations. That's why I'm here." He looked at Ellie; she already had tears in her eyes and was shaking her head. "I have a week home, and then I have to report to Fort Benning, Georgia."

"Ah," was all Jack said.

"Sir, Mrs. Aarons, would be alright for me to take Ellie out tonight?"

But the twenty year old didn't give her parents a chance to answer, she bolted from the room saying she would be back in ten minutes, leaving a bemused boyfriend behind. While waiting, Toby sat and talked calmly with Mr. and Mrs. Aarons, sharing stories of boot camp and his future in the military.

"You plan to make the army a career then?" Mary asked.

"Yes ma'am. I've already been accepted at OCS, that's Officer's Candidate School, when my first tour is complete. I have a degree, I just wanted to get into the fight as soon as I could. I believe it's better to have experience as a trooper before trying to lead them."

Jack and Mary shared a brief glance. Toby had recited, almost word-for-word, a recruiting officer's pitch to join as an enlisted man. But one thing the young mad had said surprised them, too.

"Toby, how old are you?" Mary asked. "You must be twenty-two or three if you've finished college."

"Yes, ma'am, I turned twenty-two last May. Oh, that reminds me. I won't be here for Ellie's twenty-first." He pulled a somewhat flattened package from the small bag he carried. "Would you please hide this and give it to her for me? She won't expect it and it might cheer her up."

Smiling, and impressed by the young man's thoughtfulness, Mary took the gift and put it in the desk where she kept the bills. Bills were anathema to Ellie so there was little chance of her coming across it by accident.

Upstairs, Jesse heard the commotion but ignored it until Ellie started running around looking for something nice to wear, (most of her clothing being in the laundry or back at Radford). When she let out a triumphant shout, Jesse got up and went to see what was happening and found his sister in the bathroom putting on some eye shadow.

"You don't need that to look nice, Ell," he complimented her.

Ellie smiled, but continued to apply the makeup.

"Where are you going?"

"Toby's here and we're going out," she explained breathlessly. "How do I look?"

"Um, great, Ell. Have a good time."

She gave her brother a quick hug on the way back to her room and a moment later he heard her running down the stairs. Jesse followed, but even though he was only a few seconds behind, Ellie and Toby were nearly out the front door when Jesse reached the bottom of the stairs. He and his parents waved goodbye and went to sit in the family room.

* * *

No one at the Aarons house saw much of Ellie that weekend until it was time to take her back to school Sunday afternoon. Late that evening, as Jesse was preparing for bed, the phone rang. A few minutes later, his mother brought the cordless to her son and handed it over with a smile, saying it was his sister.

"Hey. Miss me already?" Jesse kidded.

"I miss Toby too much right now, sorry, Jess."

_I know that feeling,_ Jesse thought. When Ellie didn't say anything he asked, "What's up?"

"Oh, sorry, Jess. I didn't see much of you this weekend…how are you doing? You know, with Leslie?"

He sighed. "No change. I don't know, Ell…"

"Yeah, being separated from the people you love sucks." She paused again and Jesse could tell she wanted to say something, but when she finally spoke again he knew she was just making small talk. "How are the drawing lessons going?"

"Ok, I guess. I haven't felt much like practicing."

"Draw me something, Jess, would you?"

"Like what?"

"How should I know? I flunked out of drawing stick people in second grade." They laughed because both knew Ellie was horrible at art and had no imagination in that area.

"Ok, I'll think of something. Look, I gotta get to bed, but when are you coming home again?"

"Probably not until mid-October. Let's plan on doing something, ok?"

"Yeah. Maybe we can go…I don't know…we'll figure something."

"And, Jess? Next Spring, I want you to come visit me for a few days, ok?"

"Sure, Ell, that sounds cool."

Again, he had the feeling Ellie wanted to say more, but she just bade him goodnight. He returned the phone to his parent's room, brushed his teeth, and went to bed feeling as if he had missed something, but sleep quickly overtook him.

* * *

As September progressed, Jesse gradually came to the realization that it was not just Leslie he was missing from his life, but female companionship in general. And of his other two closest female friends, Grace was a year behind at the elementary school, and Barb was gone. Tom and Mikey were with him whenever they could be, also, and it helped patch the gaping hole in his heart. But nothing, as of yet, could completely close it. The twins, on the Monday of the second week of school, sat with Jesse, Tom, and Mikey at lunch, (in spite of Tom's conspicuous non-verbal hints that Lisa wasn't welcome). This helped only a little at first; Jesse was not as close to them as with his other female acquaintances, still, he came to appreciate their company over time. It also gave him plenty of ammunition to use against Tom for his childish behavior towards his former girlfriend.

By the third week of school, homework and cross-country practice after school brought an important change into Jesse's routine: he would no longer be able to rely on the Burke's for a ride home Monday thru Thursday. This wasn't such a big letdown for him since Leslie never spoke and the ride home each day had become tense and disheartening. When Jesse told Bill he would only need a ride on Fridays, he was acknowledged by the adult; Leslie said nothing, as usual. Jesse sighed and sunk back into his seat.

But this change also brought about another problem, and another solution: Without Ellie to give him a ride, and Brenda now attending Roanoke Community College with the spare car, Jesse found unexpected assistance getting home from Tom's father. Not interested in running cross-country, his friend had signed up to be an assistant manager for the JV team, which meant that he was responsible for filling water bottles and laundering uniforms. It was a thankless job, except for Jesse. Having Tom around lifted his spirits, even when he would intentionally give him a long unwashed practice jersey or a bottle filled with warm water at practice. After a couple weeks of these pranks, Tom found fifty unwashed jock straps borrowed from the football team in his gym locker with a note from Jesse expressing appreciation for his dedication to the team.

So with Tom and Jesse staying late after classes were finished for the day, Al Jacobs could easily pick them up following work. Grace, on the days she was not staying late herself, would walk across the athletic fields to the high school and wait for her brother and friend to finish, and all would ride home together. It was the first occasion Jesse had to be around Grace for any length of time since the beach. Most remaining awkwardness from the events of the previous summer were gone, and they both worked comfortably back into their roles of being good friends. And he found her presence a welcome relief from the usual stress-filled rides home with Leslie.

Also, over these first weeks of school, Tom had been keeping Jesse up-to-date on his sister's long distance relationship with Eric. He discovered that the boy lived in Dover, Delaware, and that Grace had been calling, emailing, and IMing him, though with less regularity as time went by. By mid-September, both boys could tell that Grace was conceding to the inevitable consequence of long-distance romances. She never said when it was over, but Jesse and Tom could tell. They tried to cheer her up by taking her to a movie, but it only made her moody and Jesse wary and uncomfortable; he had to fight the urge to take Grace's hand to provide comfort and reassurance.

And Jesse had to ask himself who it was he was trying to comfort or reassure.

Even though he now considered himself unattached, and knew he and Grace would get along well together as more than friends, he was not certain he had either the heart or passion for another interpersonal relationship, particularly for one that was already scheduled to end in nine months. And there were times he thought the same idea was going through Grace's head when he caught her looking at him. Jesse had to, frequently, remind himself of what she had told him: "I think…it's not good…it's hard for friends like us…to be like this…so close."

_It's true_, Jesse knew. He had realized (too late) over the summer, that he experienced a physical attraction to Grace that increased exponentially, in direct proportion to their proximity. It perplexed him greatly, for when he thought about it objectively, Leslie was – or had been – more physically attractive to him. But without that attachment, he again found his thoughts and desires turning to his friend's sister. Confused, frustrated, and suffering from an overload of emotional inputs, Jesse felt at times that the celibate priesthood might be the best long-term solution. Of course, once he calmed down and saw Grace again, that thought went out the window and the cycle began anew.

It was going to be a tough year.

* * *

During these first few weeks of school, and unbeknownst to the Burke or Aarons families, there was a professional collaboration of sorts taking place in Roanoke over the results of Leslie's blood test prior to the start of school. At first, the younger and less experienced Dr. Spelling, the Burke's family doctor, thought she _might have_ made a mistake sharing Leslie's test results with Dr. Barry Carlson. But the older and more experienced man was, by her own admission, an excellent diagnostician as well as psychiatrist, and the girl's case had her stumped.

At first glance, Leslie's lab results had shown that, except for a slightly elevated level of mirolstatin, the girl was 'chemically' healthy. No drugs, not pregnant, no diabetes or leukemia, very low cholesterol, and she was not, to Spelling's surprise, on the pill. Phoning Judy Burke the Friday of the second week of school, she gave the positive news. But when pressed for an explanation, Spelling could offer none. This was when she decided to fax the lab results to Dr. Carlson, even against her better judgment. It wasn't until the third week of school that Spelling received a reply from her fellow doctor.

"Rose, Leslie's estrogen and progesterone levels are normal, so her being on the pill seems unlikely."

"Yes, I thought so, too, except..."

"Except…her cholesterol is borderline low, and mirolstatin is a little high…"

"It's not _that_ high, Barry."

"No, unless it's being masked or excreted. Did you do a urinalysis?"

Spelling flipped through Leslie's folder and pulled out the test results, immediately faxing them to Carlson. "Yes, they're on the way."

"What's the bilirubin count?"

"Low…_oh!_"

"'_Oh'_ is right: That one will trip you up every time. Bilirubin is produced in…"

"_The liver,_" Spelling finished, feeling like an idiot. "_And the mirolstatin!_ I bet her sediment levels are a little high, too." She looked at the urinalysis results again and confirmed the supposition. "High leukocytes _and_ hemoglobin."

"You got it, Rose. Bilirubin, along with high white and red counts; I bet they're chocked full of mirolstatin. Do you know how to test for that?"

"Yes, I'll do it immediately. But even if the mirolstatin is high, that doesn't explain all her symptoms."

"No, but it proves that she's on something. We don't produce that much mirolstatin naturally, do we?"

"Point taken. Ok, Barry, I retract all the evil things I've ever said about you."

Carlson laughed. "Most of which I _do_ deserve, but thank you. Did Judy Burke check for drugs?"

"Yes, but found nothing, and she said she was thorough."

"Well, there's one sure way to confirm all this."

"Retest her blood during…"

"Exactly, and if her estrogen and progesterone levels are down and the bilirubin is higher, then one way or another she's on the pill."

"What about the other symptoms."

Spelling thought she could _hear_ Carlson think over the phone. "Ever hear of statin poisoning?"

Spelling paused. "_I_ _thought that was disproven years ago!_"

"It was," Carlson replied sarcastically, "by the _drug companies_."

"Oh, Barry," Spelling, having been standing, plopped into her chair and felt like crying.

"Don't worry, Rose, it's almost always overlooked outside of psychiatry. Chemically induced memory loss is rare, and is almost always tied to incompatible drugs. Do the other blood test and see what happens."

"Shouldn't I start treatment right away?"

"Can't, you need…"

"…The second estrogen and progesterone count first, right."

"And you still need to find the source of the mirolstatin. Whether Judy or Bill Burke want to admit it, their daughter is on drugs, almost certainly something adulterated with mirolstatin. Did you do a complete physical?"

"No, just the usual pre-school screening."

"If there's an implant, you…"

"I know, I know. How can I ever thank you, Barry?" asked Spelling contritely.

He snickered. "I'm sure I'll find some way. Got to run now. Let me know what happens, will you?"

"Certainly, and thanks again."

A few minutes later, Dr. Rose Spelling called Judy Burke and requested she bring Leslie in for a second blood test, explaining the timing factor. Judy checked her daughter's calendar and made an appointment for the following Thursday. When the day arrived and the blood was drawn, Spelling sent one sample to the lab for a complete analysis and a second she kept for her own. The lab work, even when rushed, would take two days, but the manual tests she ran produced exactly the results she and Carlson had discussed: Leslie was _definitely_ suffering from statin poisoning. It explained everything except _how_ it was happening.

* * *

The next afternoon, Friday, Bill pulled into the garage after dropping Jesse off at his house. Even nearly a month after their breakup it still pained him to see the boy leave without so much as a goodbye from his daughter. As he sat thinking, Leslie said something, but he hadn't been paying attention.

"What was that, Les?"

"I asked who that was you just dropped off?"

Bill froze, and then snapped his head around to look at his daughter, but her eyes were vacant, and it was obvious she had already forgotten her question. He let Leslie walk into the house and then looked for his wife, finding her in the kitchen watching Jimmy 'cook' Cheerios on the floor with some pots and pans.

"Jude," he said quietly, "we need to get Les to the doctor." He explained what had just happened.

"Bill, this must be what Dr. Spelling was looking for..._ohmyGod!_ How could I have been so _stupid?!_" Jumping to her feet, Judy disappeared up the stairs, returning shortly with Leslie's last diary. She sat and turned to the latest entries. "Nothing! Not a word written since before we returned from Europe! Why didn't I think of this before?" Now her voice held a touch of panic. Judy rose again and called into the library for Leslie to join them in the kitchen. She appeared a quarter minute later.

"Hi. What's up?"

"Les, do you know a boy named Jesse Aarons?" her mother asked calmly.

"Uh, no. Should I?"

"N-No, sweetheart, thanks." Bill's eyes were opened wide and Judy was barely able to control herself. As soon as Leslie had left the kitchen, she covered her mouth and started crying.

"This isn't good, Jude," said Bill shakily. His wife just shook her head and tried to compose herself. "I'll call Spelling."

But he didn't need to: Just then, the phone rang and it was the doctor. Bill quickly explained what had happened and another piece of the puzzle of Leslie's behavior was filled in. Then Spelling informed Bill and Judy, who had picked up an extension, the results of her preliminary test.

"Statin causes memory problems, and both of Leslie's blood tests show high levels. Long-term exposure can cause schizophrenic-like symptoms, too. We _can_ treat it, and there should be no permanent damage, but we have to find the source of the poisoning."

"But where else can we look? I checked all the pharmacies and her room and bath thoroughly, there's nothing!"

"There are two other places to check, Judy. First, near the top inside of her non-dominant arm. Look for two or three long bulges under the skin. If you don't locate them we'll need to bring her in for an internal exam, but I think you'll find it under the arm."

And Judy did. Three slightly raised patches of skin, about two inches long and a quarter inch wide. When she asked Leslie about them, the teen just shrugged as a response. Back on the phone, Spelling told the parents to bring her to the hospital immediately and that she would be staying a few nights.

Before leaving for the city, Judy gave Mary Aarons a quick call and told her what they had found. Her neighbor expressed her thanks and hope for a quick recovery, but deep inside, Mary, like her son, had come to the conclusion that this sort of trauma in a relationship would be almost impossible to repair. She also decided to keep the news from him until there were any results.

* * *

Many of the questions surrounding the implants in Leslie's arm, and her unusual behavior over the past three months were answered Sunday when the statin poisoning treatment began to take effect. After a few hours of confusion and disorientation, as her chemically suppressed memories began to come back into focus, the child sat in bed, with her parents and Dr. Spelling close by, and explained the events leading up to the problem.

"I wanted to talk to you about birth control after…after that day with Jess, but I didn't want to disappoint you. I was so afraid we'd fail at abstinence. S-So in Europe, I found information about these implants that didn't cost much, and you don't need permission from your parents. I asked J.B. to take me to one of the clinics...But he didn't know what I was doing," she added quickly, seeing her father's neck turn red in anger, "please don't be mad at him. I made up a story. The procedure only took about fifteen minutes and as soon as it was over I could feel something inside me change, I just didn't know it was bad."

Dr. Carlson interrupted here and explained more about the implants and how statin poisoning affects memories. "I found that these 'cheap' implants had been taken off the market years ago. We were very lucky the side effects were temporary. Leslie's memories probably began to be suppressed almost immediately, but it was weeks before the entire memories of events or people were affected. It was, what, ten weeks before she didn't recognize Jesse? As the statin levels increased, they blocked out more and more of what Les remembered about her friend, and in some cases, only the good memories of him." Then she spoke directly to Leslie. "It's no wonder your clashes became so… intense, before he became almost a non-entity to you."

A look of confusion and worry came over Leslie's face as she listened to the doctor, and Spelling realized that not all of the adolescent's memories of Jesse had been recognized.

But it was far more than that. In a panicky voice, she hastily asked, "Mom? Dad? What happened? What's she talking about?"

Bill and Judy Burke asked the doctor to leave while they told their daughter about some of the events she had forgotten. Mostly, Leslie just sat quiet, stunned by the stories, ashamed by her behavior. And her lack of a sense of time disturbed her greatly.

"I can't believe it," she whispered. "I have these dream-like memories of school, but three weeks have passed? And poor Jess! What am I going to do?"

"You have to stay here another night or two, sweetheart," her mother said kindly. "Bill can talk to Jess on the way to school and tell him about you."

"But-but, can't I call him? Can he visit?"

Bill and Judy exchanged worried looks.

"_What?_ _What is it?_"

"Les, you…you broke up with Jess a month ago."

Leslie just stared at her mother in disbelief.

"The last day at the beach...you two had a terrible fight, and since then you've hardly said a word to each other."

As if someone had turned on a valve, tears started to pour out and Leslie flopped back onto the bed and covered her face with a pillow. She kept saying no, over and over, as if it would make everything all right. But it didn't.

"What am I going to do? He must hate me! _Does _he hate me now?"

Bill and Judy again exchanged looks. Judy answered, "No, not any more. He was in pretty bad shape for a while." The parents wisely withheld Jack Aarons' story of finding Jesse looking despairingly into the creek over Labor Day weekend.

"Les, Jess was very confused and hurt by your behavior. You'll need to take things slow with him if you want to repair the relationship."

"But-but I don't want it to be over!" Leslie cried into her pillow.

"We understand that, now. But for a month, you wouldn't say so much as _boo_ to him. It's going to take time."

The conversation went on for another hour as the parents told their daughter about other things that had happened. Some she could recall, others were still blank spots in her memory. But _Leslie's_ thoughts kept returning to her now ex-boyfriend, _ex-friend!_

_What am I going to do?_

Both parents offered to stay the night, but Leslie said she would rather be alone to think through things. Bill again promised to speak with Jesse the next morning and that seemed to cheer her up, but both parents could tell their daughter felt horribly guilty. And they had not even addressed the issue of what Leslie had done to cause all this.

* * *

Judy Burke visited with Mary Aarons very early the following morning and told her about the events of the weekend. Her friend was more than a little irritated that she had not heard anything before then, but the relief that Leslie was going to be fine quickly supplanted the anger. Judy also told her how Bill would talk to Jesse later that morning on the way to school. Both mothers hoped the cure had not come too late, at least for the kids to remain friends.

An hour later, as soon as Jesse had belted himself in the car, Bill Burke began to fill him in on what had happened. "Jess, Leslie is in the hospital." He noticed that the youth's reaction to the news was not as it would have been months earlier. Whether that was due to indifference or foreknowledge of the event, he was not sure. Bill went on to explain what had happened to her, detailing, as best he could, the reason for her behavior towards him over the past weeks. Jesse asked a couple questions as they pulled up to school, and they were answered as he started to get out of the car. Bill brought up one other thing. "Jess, Leslie feels horrible about all this and wants to talk to you."

Exiting the car, Jesse crouched down and answered through the open passenger window.

"I need to think, Mr. Burke, I…I just don't… I'll let you…"

But Jesse could not continue, though Bill read his face precisely: _I don't want to be hurt like that again._

"Ok, I understand. Judy or I will be going in to see her this evening if you'd like to…" But Jesse was already backing away and Bill knew better than to push the matter. Still, as he drove off, he couldn't help but feel more than a little bit of the pain his daughter would feel when he told her of Jesse's response.

* * *

"_She accidentally poisoned herself_?" Tom Jacobs nearly shouted at lunch a few hours later. "That's why she was acting so strange?" Jesse nodded. "What're you going to do? Does she want to, uh, get back together?" he asked, throwing a disgruntled look at Lisa Silliard, but she was too busy talking about this development with her twin to notice.

"I don't know what to do, Tom," replied Jesse heavily. Then he leaned over and quietly said, "What would you do if Lisa wanted to get back together?"

Tom started to answer and then thought about it. Jesse could tell after a few seconds that his friend saw the dilemma.

"Yeah, I see your point." And he did.

"Well? What _are_ you going to do, Jess?" Carol asked a bit impatiently. Tom, trying to defend his friend, threw a balled-up napkin across the table at her; it bounced short and landed a bull's eye down the front of her blouse.

"I'll get it!" Mikey said, making motions as if he would. Carol plucked it out, however, and threw it at her boyfriend with a smug _don't you wish? _look.

"I don't know what to do," Jesse admitted, though more to himself than his friends, after a half-minute of awkward silence.

"Well I do!" Lisa announced. "Put yourself in her shoes, _Jesse Aarons_, and see how things look to her." And with that brief statement, the twins rose and left the table. Mikey shrugged and followed them outside.

"I guess that's as good advice as any," Jesse muttered.

After school, waiting for their ride home, Tom told his sister about Leslie, and Jesse's indecision about how to handle a possible reconciliation. She refused to offer an opinion, but did say to Jesse when he arrived that she was happy for Leslie and hoped they would all be friends again. The response was only a noncommittal grunt.

* * *

"Jess, what's wrong?" his mother asked when he stopped well short of Leslie's hospital room.

Jesse looked wildly around, spotted a small waiting room, and ducked inside. Mary Aarons followed.

"I…I'm just so _MAD_ at her, Mom. Part of me feels like I hate her."

"Jess, sit down," his mother instructed. It wasn't exactly a command, but Jesse understood her tone and did as told. "Jess, this is up to you now. Leslie doesn't know you're coming so we can turn around and go home. Is that what you want to do?"

"No…_I don't know!_ Half the day I wanted to see her." Jesse stood and handed his mother the bunch of flowers she had picked up at the hospital florist. "I think I'm too angry to see her now," he said definitively.

"Jess, it _is_ possible to be angry with a person and still love them."

The pacing stopped and the small room fell silent. Mary could tell her son was thinking, and she waited, knowing it might be seconds or hours before he made up his mind; she hoped the former. And it was. First, he started tapping his foot, almost as if it was to the rhythm of a song. Then he asked for the flowers back. "Ok, let's go," was all Jesse said, but his mother still wasn't sure which _way_ he would go until he walked past the elevator.

Bill and Judy Burke were sitting in their daughter's room, both reading, when Jesse entered. Behind him, his mother smiled at their neighbors. With only a brief hesitation, Jesse stepped around the curtain to find his friend asleep, or nearly so. Bill approached and explained: "Les just had her last dosage of the antidote and it makes her drowsy for a while. Stick around, she'll be awake soon."

While his mother and Leslie's parents quitted the room, Jesse stood beside the bed watching Leslie's face. She was slowly coming around, but her eyes were still shut. Jesse moved his hand to hers and let their fingers touch. He wanted to see what it would feel like after all that had happened. When she stirred a bit he pulled away, but continued to watch her hand, thinking about the last time he had held it at the beach, right before their big fight.

"Jess?"

Jesse's head snapped up to see Leslie's eyes partly open, blinking.

"Is that you, Jess?"

"Hey," was the only thing he could think to say.

Still fighting the side effects of the drug, Leslie slurred her next sentence so badly she had to repeat it. "Sssleepy…I hoped you would come." Still standing above her, Jesse felt helpless, and much like the time at the beach when he had told Leslie about the Keanes; he was unable to do much to offer comfort, so he again took her hand, but saw she had drifted back to sleep.

A couple minutes later he exited the room, told his mother he wanted to go home, and walked to the elevator.

Jesse hadn't looked at Bill or Judy when he left, and when they returned to the room they saw Jesse's flowers in Leslie's right hand and a note she was reading held in her left. When she finished it, Leslie closed her eyes and handed it to her parents.

_Les, I'm glad you are feeling better. Jess  
_

Revision 1.1, March 2008


	44. Part 5: The Returns

A Life Rescued

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 44 – The Returns**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

"Les is coming back tomorrow? That's good, maybe Lisa and Carol will stop hanging around with us."

Jesse and Tom had just paid for their milk and were looking for a seat in the cafeteria. Tom started drifting off to one side and Jesse towards the other, where Lisa, Carol, and Mikey sat, waving at them to come over. It was embarrassing and Jesse didn't feel like being embarrassed. He push his friend towards their regular table.

"I like them, Tom. Just because you can't handle being around Lisa doesn't mean we should all suffer," Jesse said, trying unsuccessfully to hide his irritation at his friend's continuing stubborn behavior towards his ex-girlfriend.

"I can handle it," he replied, weakly resisting being herded to the people Jesse wanted to sit with.

They sat and exchanged greetings with their friends, though Tom refused to say anything to Lisa. Jesse then told the others that Leslie would be back the next day…and immediately regretted his action: No sooner had he said 'tomorrow,' than did the questions begin, all centering around he and her getting back together. After trying to ignore or put off at least one inquiry from each person, he set his milk down and was honest with them.

"Leslie and I are _just friends_ now. We decided anything more wouldn't work."

Actually, Jesse meant that _he_ had decided that anything more would not work.

His four classmates stared, mostly dumbfounded, at this revelation. They all knew he and Leslie split up, but they also knew something was wrong with her and assumed that when she was better she and Jesse would get back together. (Not surprisingly, Leslie expected this, too.) But Jesse had made up his mind when he saw her the night before that it wouldn't work. While he still felt a deep friendship and affection towards her, he confessed that much of his love had been burned away by the events of the past few weeks and months. Even touching her hand was bitter, and no longer evoked the swell of joy in him it had a month earlier. Everything reminded him of the pain and emptiness he had suffered through since the beach, and he knew of no other way to stop it.

"You're serious, aren't you?" asked Tom incredulously. Jesse nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.

Lisa and Carol gave him a disgusted look and left the table without finishing their lunch. Predictably, Mikey followed.

"Jess, are you sure? This isn't because of Gracie, is it?"

"_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_" Jesse snapped, slamming his fist on the table next to his carton of milk, causing a little fountain of the white liquid to spurt out of the straw.

"Chill out, Jess. I've seen you and her this past week." Jesse began to protest but Tom rode over his sputtering. "Forget it, Jess, it ain't gonna happen. Dad wouldn't let you two, anyway."

"_What?_ _Why?_"

"On account of you've already hurt her, that's why."

Jesse made to take a bite of his sandwich but shoved it in his brown paper bag instead. "And what about you?"

Tom smiled, unsettling Jesse. Then he spoke and it unsettled him even more.

"Jess, Gracie's been in love with you for years. She's a big girl now and if she wants to screw…I mean, mess up the year with you, then it's fine with me."

Now it was Jesse's turn to look incredulous. "You mean that?"

"Sure, but you still have to get by our Dad." Tom laughed.

"Oh, yeah."

"And if you're serious about not dating Leslie any more…I guess you wouldn't mind, uh, me asking her out."

Unconsciously Jesse closed his eyes. He was thinking back two years when Tom had joked about this exact situation: Jesse taking Grace to the seventh grade dance and Tom taking Leslie. When he opened his eyes he could tell Tom was thinking the same thing.

"You and your sister've been waiting two years for this, huh?"

"Not exactly, but I was hoping. I like Les. Grace likes you. You like Grace. It'll work out."

"Except for your father."

"There is that, but I can work on him." Tom took the last bite of his corned beef sandwich, washing it down with the rest of Jesse's milk. "So, you really do want to hang with my little sister?"

"Yeah, I do."

"And you're ok with me and Les together?"

Jesse pause for a moment. "Yeah, but just remember: You wont get as far with her as I did."

Tom burst out laughing, but Jesse became distracted when he heard someone call his name…

"Jess!" He felt his shoulder being shaken. "Jess, wake up! Les and her dad will be here in ten minutes!"

May was leaning over him, still shaking his shoulder. Jesse looked at the clock: he had forgotten to set the alarm. _Damn! _Jumping out of bed, he shooed his sister out of the room and threw on the first thing he could find that looked reasonably clean while the last memories of the dream faded away. He shivered. Following a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth, he ran down the stairs two at a time and stumbled into the rest of the family at the kitchen table in various stages of dress, all eating or finishing breakfast. Brenda left a bowl of grits uneaten on the table and took the piece of slightly buttered toast from her mouth and put it in his.

"You girlfriend will be here any second…you can have my grits!" she said, waving goodbye.

Jesse nearly choked on the dry toast and took the tumbler of juice offered by Joyce Ann.

"Thanks, Joycey," he sputtered, giving his youngest sister a quick hug, and then one to May, his mother, and finally Brian. Thankful he had put his homework away the night before, he grabbed his backpack, shoveled down a couple bites of grits, and ran out the door just as Bill Burke pulled up. He didn't see his friend hidden from view in the left rear seat of the car, but she leaned over and motioned for him to join her. And he did.

* * *

Jesse was amazed at how quickly a month of pain could be erased – or mostly erased. It started the day before when Leslie had come home from the hospital. He still wasn't certain how he was going to react to her, much like two nights before when he had left the cryptic note. _That_ he felt a little guilty about: not being clear with his feelings. But he had not _felt_ clear, if he was to be honest. And the dream, though just a dream, did hold a hint of truth to it.

It was almost five o'clock when Mr. Jacobs dropped him off, and the late summer rainstorm that had been threatening all day burst just as he walked into the house. Ten minutes later the phone rang. Having intentionally set himself next to the family room extension, Jesse snapped it up before the first ring ended and said hello.

"Jesse?"

_It's Leslie. _"_Hey!_"

"You've had a limited vocabulary the past few days, haven't you?" she said laughing.

It felt so good to hear her laugh, and Jesse immediately knew his best friend was back. He also wondered how he could have been fooled for the four weeks, between the time she returned from Europe and their break-up. It was a laugh he had not heard since June, and it flowed over him, washing away pain and loneliness, and refilling the vast emptiness in his chest. He let the sound of her voice ease his mind and heart, and then he spoke.

"I've missed you." The phrase seemed only a weak shadow of his feelings, but it was the best he could do.

"Jess, let's go for a walk. I'll be there in a couple minutes."

"Ok. See ya."

They hung up, and only then did Jesse realize it was pouring outside. Really pouring. But for some reason it didn't matter to him. He did not even bother with a slicker on his way out to the porch, and stood there, breathing in the scent of the forest, rain, and steam rising from the hot ground. When he looked up, Leslie was sprinting down the drive, completely soaked, her blonde, shoulder-length hair stuck to her neck and face. Lost, dizzy, Jesse found himself in the rain, walking to meet her, and before he knew it, they were embracing as tightly as they ever had.

There were no words for a long time, from either adolescent, and the only movement between them was a slight easing of their grip so they could breathe. One minute passed, two, three - Jesse didn't keep track, but amid the deluge pounding on the trees, the house, the small lake they were now up to their ankles in, he heard and felt Leslie crying. He supposed he should have expected it, though he hated it when she did. But as his attention was shifting focus from the rain to his friend, he realized that he was also tearing up. The catharsis was intense, like nothing Jesse had ever felt before, certainly, and crying felt like the only appropriate reaction that went with holding Leslie.

After a while, Jesse could tell Leslie was saying something, but with her face partly covered by his chest the words were lost. Except for one: "Sorry."

Jesse stroked Leslie's hair, a little self-consciously and awkwardly, and shushed her after a while, but felt her head shake no against him so he let her continue.

In the Aarons house, Mary stood silently at the window with her arm around May and watched the reconciliation. Joyce Ann then came up and asked why Jesse and Leslie were allowed to stand in the rain and she was not. The mother led the two girls off to finish preparing for dinner, though she did not expect her older son to be present.

It took almost a half hour for Leslie to say everything she wanted to say, virtually all of it apologies for one thing or another, but when she finished, Jesse felt better, and was certain she did, too. The rain had lessened noticeably when they finally released each other completely; looking at themselves, totally drenched, both started giggling.

Jesse held out his hand and it was immediately taken. They walked back towards Leslie's house slowly, out of necessity – the mud was threatening to pull off their sneakers if they proceeded any faster – and then turned down the path by the creek. Mostly in silence, the two fourteen year-olds considered the status of their repaired relationship. Jesse could not pinpoint the proper term for how he felt. Relief, certainly. Joy, too. But a touch of guilt was sprinkled in among these, and he found his thoughts briefly drifting to Grace Jacobs, and the dream, wondering if he would have pursued a more intimate relationship with her had his and Leslie's reconciliation not taken place.

Being honest with himself, Jesse knew he would have, though he could not fathom why he would intentionally try to get closer to a person knowing it would end in three-quarters of a year. Then he recalled his thoughts from the previous week when he and Tom took Grace out to try to cheer her up.

To put it simply, while the two of them would have had a _stimulating relationship_, Grace and him together would be a disaster, for the same reason it had nearly been one over the summer when he was still dating Leslie. It galled Jesse to think that he could not control himself, physically, around her. He knew they would be in far deeper than he and Leslie right from the start, and it sickened him that he felt that way…and it frightened him, too, that he believed Grace felt that way. He'd seen it in her eyes and in her body language. He wasn't mad at her by any means, in fact, he felt a little flattered. But there was just something about being physically close to her that evoked far more impure thoughts than Leslie, even though he had a deeper affection and love for his neighbor. There was a deep-seated passion about the girl he couldn't understand. Or was it just their, "Repressed Catholic sexuality trying to escape," as Ellie would sometimes make reference to when she saw couples at church.

After an hour together, the last part spent sitting in mud and leaning against each other, Jesse brought up his feelings of guilt, even going as far as mentioning Grace and the way he was sometimes affected by her. Leslie listened quietly, then asked some questions Jesse knew he should expect, but he also knew it was Leslie he wanted more than anything, as a friend, a best friend, a girlfriend, and said so. At one point he found himself hopelessly tongue-tied, mentioning something Leslie had said to him at the beach.

"_I swear, Les, I didn't want Gracie's top to come off more than yours…I mean…aw, crap, you know what I mean!"_

Blushing, she changed that topic quickly.

Then their conversation came to the subject Leslie had known it would have to: How and why she got herself into this mess in the first place.

"I was so scared, Jess. I felt completely alone on the tour, and right after being so close to you...physically. Mom and I had talked about birth control, but I wanted to be careful about it...I thought I knew what was best…" She went on to explain how J.B. had taken her to a Pharmacy and waited while she had the implants. "That's when things started getting strange."

Jesse put his arm around her and said it was going to be alright. Leslie was not so easily convinced.

"Mom and Dad told me that they want to talk with me tomorrow after school. I guess it's all about this stuff. God, I was so stupid!" she spat out bitterly.

"We all make mistakes, Les."

"Maybe, but some of us make more than others. Oh! And we forgot Grace's birthday again, can you believe it?"

"Tom told me they never made a big deal about birthdays in their family; but you're right, we should do something."

Both sat quietly for a moment until Leslie brought up an idea: "Let's take Tom and Grace to the cabin this weekend. We can ask Mikey, Lisa, and Carol, too. I'm sure Dad would drive us up."

"Don't want to hike?" Jesse asked.

"The twins would never do it," laughed Leslie, and Jesse agreed. Lisa and Carol, while in good physical shape, apart from dancing they were not into activities that required perspiration.

The friends again drifted into silence, a comfortable, contented silence. When they finally rose to head home, Jesse's stomach was growling and evening was approaching, darkened further by the stormy skies. And both were beginning to shiver a little, though the vigorous walk home took care of that.

It was nearly seven when Jesse said goodnight to Leslie. He embraced her again, tightly, but not too long, and gave her an clumsy kiss on her cheek as they separated. Leslie, in return, smiled sadly, obviously still feeling guilty, returned the gesture, and then ran into her house. On his walk home, Jesse contemplated their parting actions and realized it was the most either felt comfortable with, and it would be a while before either were completely healed.

* * *

Jesse practically jumped into the back seat of the Burke's car and ignored Bill's greeting, instead focusing his attention on Leslie. He felt like it was the first day of high school again, and they chatted, nonstop, the entire trip. In the front seat, Leslie's father said nothing, but wore a content smile, both because of the reconciliation and the decided lack of tension during the ten minute drive.

Arriving at the drop-off, they were greeted by Tom, Mikey, Lisa, and Carol. And partly hidden behind them was Janice Avery who had heard just the day before of Leslie's absence, though not all the details. Jesse slid out of the car carrying his and Leslie's backpack and found his best friend surrounded by the small crowd of well-wishers. Most of the important questions they had for her were answered when she stopped and took Jesse's hand, largely confirming the repair of their friendship.

The first warning bell rang and everyone headed off to their home rooms, except Leslie and Jesse; they remained amidst the diminishing flow of stragglers still arriving, holding hands and making plans for lunch. They were interrupted a moment later by a quiet voice, one neither had heard for many months. Turning, the backpacks fell to the concrete in astonishment.

"Maggie?" both said.

Leslie leapt at their friend, embracing her, but receiving a further shock as she felt the girl's noticeably thinner body. When she let go, the second oldest Keane girl gave Jesse a brief hug and stood in embarrassed silence. Leslie noticed the car that had dropped her off driving away: It had an official state license plate.

"How are you?" asked Jesse tentatively, but the second bell rang just then and Maggie begged off so as to not be late for class. Leslie and Jesse followed, sharing curious expressions. "Let's try to see her at lunch," Jesse suggested.

And they did. Maggie was sitting alone in a far corner of the cafeteria when they met again a few hours later. Jesse first went over to their usual table, apologizing and explaining what they were doing. Lisa and Carol gave him a surprised look; Mikey and Tom shrugged and went back to their sandwiches. Walking across the hall, they noticed that Maggie was turning away a number of her tennis team friends to be alone.

"She must have just started back," Leslie supposed.

"Monday. I heard someone talking about it in History."

Not wanting to appear they were talking about her, even though they were, Jesse and Leslie remained quiet as they approached Maggie's table. When they made to sit, both were relieved to find themselves welcome.

"Hi, how was your morning?" Leslie ventured.

"Oh, _nice_," Maggie replied bitterly and quietly. "Today I only had _four_ people ask me how I liked screwing my father, as if it was me doing it, not him. So if you two want to stay here, don't ask." Maggie looked back down to her spaghetti and continued playing with it using her plastic spork.

The two younger friends lost their appetite with Maggie's last comment, but Leslie persisted a couple minutes later.

"M-Maggie? How are your sisters doing?"

Their friend threw down the spork and gave Leslie a long suffering look. "They're...well, how do you think they're doing?" For a moment, she looked like she might cry. "Jen's been at W&M all semester; she didn't have the same...issues with our father as the rest of us. Barb and I are with a foster family in Boxley."

The fact that she had left out the status of her two youngest sisters greatly concerned her friends, but they did not pursue an answer. According to the reports in the papers over the past couple months, it had been Maddie and Terri that bore the brunt of their parent's abuse, both physical and emotional; Jesse still felt ill whenever he read updates in the paper about the catastrophe. He shared a furtive look of pain and sympathy with Leslie and decided to drop the subject after one final question.

"Will Barb be returning to school, um, this year?"

The Irish-American girl flashed a cross look at Jesse for a second but then answered that she did not know. He found this an unusual answer but made nothing of it.

The balance of the lunch period was mostly quiet between the three, except for Leslie passing a note to Maggie asking her to give it to Barbara when she had the chance. Maggie just nodded and slipped the paper into her handbag. When she got up to leave, Jesse wanted to say something, but found himself tongue-tied, and saw Leslie shake her head. Alone again, both friends sighed, and both thought to themselves that their own problems were nothing compared to the Keane children's.

After school, Leslie called home for a later pick-up and hung around with Tom and Jesse so she could talk to Grace. The two girls disappeared for almost an hour while Jesse ran and Tom dolled out water. When they returned, it appeared as if all was patched up between them, then Leslie went to speak with Tom. Her final task that afternoon was to locate the coach for the girls JV Cross Country team and see if she could still join. She was immediately welcomed in by the woman who was well aware of her reputation. Practice would begin the following week and Leslie knew she was badly out of shape, but she also looked forward to running with Jesse again in the mornings to remedy that problem.

That evening, Jesse put up with a lot of good-natured teasing from his family at dinner about 'getting back together with Leslie,' and May was the worst of the teasers. He accepted it all gracefully, but noticed his parents trading looks now and then. When his younger siblings had gone to bed, he asked his father about his observations and received an ironic, wary, smile in return.

"Jess, have you forgotten so soon how hurt you were? Or where I found you Labor Day weekend?"

He answered honestly. "Maybe a little...or a lot."

"Love is blind, son. Don't let her hurt you like that again," Jack Aarons advised, turning back to a repair manual he was reading.

"I wont," Jesse snapped, a little annoyed. But when he thought of the advise, he realized how easily it could happen - again. He and Leslie were a long way from being back to where they were in their relationship before the summer started. And over the past twenty-four hours, outside of their previous evening's reconciliation, the only physical contact was holding hands a few minutes, and Jesse found little desire for anything else. But the emotional attachment, his reliance on Leslie as a part of him, was largely restored.

_No_, Jesse realized, _it could happen again and I would be a basket case - again_.

It was a disturbing thought and his father was silently glad to see this realization in his son's face.

Jesse had one last thing he wanted to do that Thursday evening: call his sister and share the good news about himself and Leslie. He waited patiently while the resident assistant went looking for Ellie, and was surprised to hear her answer the phone with, "I knew you two would get back together!" They both laughed, and Jesse appreciated how much he missed his one-time tormenter of a sister.

The conversation that followed was long but a little upsetting; again Jesse felt that Ellie was holding something back. But he shook it off, refusing to let the phantom fear ruin his day, and went to bed looking forward to an early morning run with his..._Friend?...Best friend?...Girlfriend?_

_That_ was yet to be decided.

* * *

The scene at the Burke house that same evening was far more intense, and Leslie, as she had told Jesse, was expecting it. Following dinner was a long, deep discussion between Leslie and her parents about her highly questionable actions with J.B. in Germany. She felt nettled and put out by her mother's direct and forceful summarization of what she had done, physically, emotionally, and even spiritually – a first as far as Leslie could recall. Her only defense was how angry she was with her parents for ruining her summer. Bill immediately retorted that most kids would love six weeks in Europe, but received little support from his wife who still bore a smoldering resentment about the tour, too. Leslie picked up on this and made a case in her defense by pointing out that even half of her parents were not happy with what had happened. But if she thought this would bring her mother over to her side she was sadly mistaken, and Judy let her daughter know that, too.

The hour-long confrontation ended generally amiably, but Judy and Bill let their daughter know that her behavior – trying on her own to access and use birth control – was unacceptable. Leslie knew, deep inside, that they were right. She had seriously messed up, and was lucky – _very lucky_ – that she had not permanently ruined her friendship with Jesse Aarons, not to mention her own health. She went off to do her homework and think about all they had discussed together.

Judy came into Leslie's room near midnight to find the teen writing in her diary. They spoke for a few minutes before the mother kissed the daughter goodnight and headed off to bed. She learned that the day had gone well between her daughter and Jesse (but she still wasn't certain it was completely back to the boyfriend/girlfriend state) and that Leslie was very much looking forward to being with Jesse again. She would talk with Mary Aarons the next morning and compare notes, but overall, Judy Burke felt better about her family than she had in two months, and hoped it would continue.

* * *

Leslie's idea to have a much belated birthday party on the Boone property did not work out as she had planned; it worked out better. Mikey Sellers was spending the weekend with the Silliard twins and their parents in Richmond at a dance competition. Both Lisa and Carol were champion level Irish dancers and one of the larger competitions in central Virginia was taking place that last weekend of September, and was considered a warm-up to the Southern Region Championships, so their presence was expected. Instead, the trip reverted back to the originally planned hike, and for the first time in many months the four reunited friends would spend the day together.

The outing began delightfully with Tom and Grace having spent the night with Jesse and Leslie, respectively, and starting out early Saturday morning to avoid the predicted high temperatures uncommon at this time of the year. Leslie, on prior trips was always in top shape, but struggled a bit as the heat increased and the terrain became steeper. Jesse made a couple unusual stops for his friend to catch her breath under the guise of showing Tom some unusual plant he'd seen over the summer, but the amateur botanist wasn't fooled. He did, however, play along with the little deceptions.

Late morning found all four lounging in the cool pool of water at the head of the canyon, resting their sore feet and tired legs. Following the refreshing dip, they changed and found a breezy, shady spot to eat lunch and present Grace with a number of birthday gifts, explaining that she deserved two years worth since they had missed her thirteenth birthday completely. She protested, but it was clear she was delighted by everything she received…until Jesse joked that she would have to carry it back herself. As they collected the gifts and lunch leftovers, Grace gave Leslie a warm embrace, thanking her for the gifts and being such a good friend. Then she turned to find Jesse standing immediately behind her, and offered the same thanks. Jesse blushed a little when he caught Leslie's eyes, but she seemed far more amused than jealous, and it made him feel much better.

Their last stop before returning home was at the old cabin, now showing definite signs of abandonment and disrepair. Jesse asked his three friends to sit on the porch while he sketched them, and the hour he drew was declared well spent when the others saw the charcoal and pencil work. He then promised to draw himself into the picture and give it to the Jacobs before they left the area. The mention of this threw a pall of gloominess over everyone until Tom said they would feel better if Jesse simply left himself _out_ of the drawing. This broke the temporary gloom, but none of them wanted to be reminded of what would happen the following spring.

By dinner time, the four travelers were back at the Burke's house where they had been promised a cookout. They split up again to change and shower before reconvening with the balance of the Aarons family. Al Jacobs joined them, too, surprising his children, for he seldom partied. It was also the first time in five weeks the Burkes and Aarons had gathered as friends and neighbors, but it felt like years in many ways. Mary and Judy outdid themselves with a number of favorite homemade side dishes to compliment Bill & Jack's steaks, burgers, and brats. And while all this was going on, homemade ice cream churned on the deck for desert.

It was a fitting end to a wonderful day and no one wanted to leave, but the Jacobs had early church plans and the younger kids' bedtime approached. When all the goodbyes were finished, Jesse and Jack lingered behind to help clean. Then Leslie's cell phone rang shortly before the clean-up was complete and she disappeared into the house. When she didn't reappear for nearly a half hour, Jesse asked her parents if he could see if she was alright.

He found her in the library, her phone closed and on the reading table. She was holding her head in her hands.

"Les? What's up?"

"That was Barb Keane..." She paused with a lost look on her face. "Her sister, Terri, committed suicide."

Jesse make a choking noise and nearly dropped the two platters he was carrying.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	45. Part 5: The Candidate

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 45 – The Candidate**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Tom Jacobs was a liar. He was not a _bad_ or _viscous_ one, in fact, he was almost always truthful. But, as the saying goes, "Once a liar, always a liar," for a lie, like misspoken words and gossip, was virtually impossible to erase. So Tom had lied, and he was going to do the only thing he could think of to make peace with himself.

What he had lied about was a file on his computer. The file name was TJPrayers.docx, and he opened it for the last time, feeling the twinge of guilt he always had when looking at the Word document: There was nothing prayerful about the contents of this file, or the reason he needed it password-protected. There were only two pictures in it, but he had kept them for a year, occasionally glancing at them, fantasizing about the two prettiest girls he had ever seen. And now one was dead.

He looked at the first picture. Seeing Terri Keane like that, alive and happy, made him sick, especially considering why she was dead, and what she must have been hiding when he first met her.

_Only eleven years old!_

Tom had to look away and fight the mounting urge to be sick. Again.

He closed the document, not having looked at Maddie's picture, deleted the file, went to the Recycle folder and permanently deleted it from there, too, and then shut down his computer. It was perfect timing, his sister knocked on the door.

"Tommy? You ready?" she asked through his closed and locked door. "Mrs. Burke will be here any minute."

Tom found he could not yet speak, so he grabbed his suit coat and let his sister in. His and Grace's eyes met.

"This _sucks_, big-time," he managed to snarl after a moment. Grace nodded and gave her brother a hug. "_I'll KILL her father if he's at the funeral._" His sister did not much doubt the passion behind _that_ threat, only the means.

"He won't be, Tommy, the D.A. made that clear yesterday at the news conference."

"Yeah? That's _too fuckin' bad_. I could save the county a bunch of legal expenses."

Grace took her brother by the shoulders and shook him. "Stop cursing, and don't be an idiot, _Thomas_. Dad and I need you."

This shut the teen up and he slumped against the wall. After a minute, Grace took his hand and led him down the stairs. The Burkes were just pulling into the driveway, trying to get as close to the house as possible so their two new passengers would not have to walk quite as far through the pouring rain. Grace took an umbrella and headed to the car, Tom followed after locking the front door. In seconds they were in the car.

"Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Burke," Grace said as she put on her seatbelt. Jimmy was in his car seat next to her, half asleep.

Tom echoed the thanks, adding, "Dad will drive us home."

"It's no difficulty; either way is fine." A pause. "How are you two doing?" The silence following the question provided the most honest answer. Judy Burke sighed and nodded.

The Amigone Funeral Home was half-way between Boxley and Lark Creek, and had been converted from a hundred year-old mansion about the time Jack and Mary Aarons were married. It sat in a row of ten other old houses, just off the main route to Roanoke, where there had once been a small village. Now all the houses were professional offices of one sort or another, including a florist doing excellent business that day.

As Judy Burke pulled up to the parlor, a steady line of mourners could be seen entering the home, many carrying arrangements just purchased from the neighboring business. Fortunately the rain had let up and was only a light drizzle. Seeing there was no close parking, Grace and Tom offered to take Jimmy inside with them, and Judy gratefully accepted, relieving her of having to maneuvere the stroller through the numerous collection of puddles on the old, run-down sidewalks.

The Jacobs siblings and still sleeping Jimmy entered the funeral home and were immediately greeted by Bill Burke, who took his son from Grace. Leslie, and some of the Aarons family, including Ellie who had no afternoon classes that day, were off to the side. Ellie stood talking with Jesse and May, her mascara already streaked around her eyes. When Tom looked down he was deeply moved to see the three holding hands. The rest of the Aarons family was sitting on a couch: Jack and Mary looked particularly troubled.

The memorial service was twenty minutes from starting when there was a slight increase in volume from the normally hushed voices in the building. A few seconds later, the remaining Keane children and a few adults who appeared to be related, based on facial features and hair color, entered the large hall outside the viewing room. For those who knew the family best, particularly Jesse, Leslie, Grace, and Tom, seeing the four sisters was a shock, or more like a blow to the stomach. Only Jen appeared composed, the other three sisters had an adult at their side for support. Tom commented that they looked like bodyguards.

The funeral director, accompanying the family, gained the crowd's attention and announced that the service would be delayed a few minutes due to the unexpectedly large crowd. Jen then spoke up and thanked everyone for attending; as her eyes passed over her four teenage acquaintances, her voice broke, but she quickly recovered and finished her message. Then she and her family headed straight for the Aarons, Burkes, and Jacobs, including Al, still in uniform, having just arrived from his office. The scene that followed was both curious and heart-wrenching.

Barbara Keane walked to Jesse and wordlessly embraced him. And he was glad she did not speak for he was having trouble controlling his emotions. Of the five – now four – Keane girls, Jesse was closest to her, even after what had happened earlier in the summer. Like Grace and Leslie, he felt comfortable talking about almost anything with Barbara, but without the complications his relationship with Grace carried.

Maggie let out a small cry when she saw Ellie and they shuffled over to a corner where both could be heard trying to talk through their sobs.

Jen, though never very close to her sister's friends, went to introduce herself to the five parents. When she left, Mary commented to Jack that the girl was remarkable poised, except for slightly shaking hands. "Yeah, just like a boiler right before it blows," he replied.

Maddie, who was, by far, the least controlled of the girls, found Tom and approached him with the tall, Irish-looking man who had been accompanying her. The girl's face was a picture of despair and it was obvious she was paying a physical price for the events of the past six weeks. Normally composed, well groomed, and vivacious, Madison appeared almost disheveled and as if she was having difficulty functioning. Until she reached Tom. They spoke in quiet voices for a minute, during which Tom slowly lost his composure. The last time Grace saw her brother before the service, he and the youngest Keane girl were hugging, both in tears, and Tom more so than Maddie. She had no idea that much of his grief was tied-up in guilt.

Fifteen minutes later, the funeral director ushered as many guests as could fit into the chapel. Jesse, Leslie, Tom, Grace, and Ellie were surprised to hear their respective parents inform them that they would sit with the Keane family and accompany them to the church, if they desired. They were all deeply touched and accepted the offer. Curiously, Grace could tell, throughout the ceremony, that her brother was having a far more difficult time that day than when they buried their mother.

The brief prayer ceremony ended and the family and their closest guests were ushered out a side door into a number of black Cadillacs, the type typically found at funerals. The hearse, white due to it's occupant's youth, drove off shortly thereafter, followed by a procession of cars. As they pulled out from behind the home, nearly everyone was astonished to see the enormous crowd that covered the front lawn. Jesse and his friends were silent, but wondered how many people were there because they knew Terri and the family, or because of the depth of the tragedy. Or both. He was also shocked to see Dr. Carlson's face among the throngs and wondered about his connection with the family.

The church service was surprisingly morbid, but mercifully brief, and left Tom, more than the others, more deeply depressed. The only positive feeling he carried out of the ceremony and burial was that he seemed to be doing Madison some good, for she ended up staying by him throughout. But when everything was over, he walked off by himself and cried bitterly, unable to shake the guilt and despair which the past three days, and ten weeks, had wrought. It would be a while before the usually cheerful, jocular teen was himself again.

With a lesser necessity, Jesse, Leslie, and Ellie provided their friends support. Jesse and Leslie sat on either side of Barbara, and both were deeply touched by her choice of them to be with her. The reason for her selection would be made clear much later. Ellie was with Jen and Maggie, and as with the others, remained by their side throughout the church service and subsequent interment.

And then it was over.

Due to the nature of the events surrounding Terri's death, the Keane family planned only a small family gathering following the burial, to which the Aarons, Burkes, and Jacobs were invited, as well as two families Terri and Maggie knew from their private school in Roanoke, and some friends of Jen. The small crowd met late that afternoon at the Embassy Suites on the west side of Roanoke where the family's Irish customs of celebrating death were struggling to override the uncommonly deep hurt the children were dealing with.

Upon her arrival, Maddie immediately latched herself on to Tom, again, and practically begged him not to leave her. Grace joined them, awkwardly at first, but was soon welcomed for her sincerity and compassion. And her brother was particularly pleased as he was feeling the approach of mental overload.

Again, Jesse and Leslie sat with Barbara. Little was said except that she would be returning to school soon, news her friends were delighted to hear.

Ellie spent time with Jen and Maggie, but more so the younger sister as the older felt responsible for mingling with their out-of-town guests. Jesse's sister soon learned the scope of the horror the Keane girls had gone through over the past two years, as did his other friends, and they could then more easily understand the lack of typical Irish cheer that afternoon. But the most complete and revealing explanation came from Jen when she brought a number of adults together to explain what would be happening in the coming days.

Judy and Bill Burke, Mary and Jack Aarons, and Al Jacobs stood in a smaller anteroom while she explained to them a few of the less sordid details of the past two years and her hopes for the future. The worst part of the brief gathering was Jen's grief at feeling helpless to keep her siblings together. For herself, she could understand a separation; she had been living away from her family for more than a year already. And she mentioned, briefly, that she had not been subject to the destructive nature of her parent's actions. In fact, she further shocked the five adults by revealing that it was she who had discovered the illegal activity and turned her parents in to the police, ending the story with a bitter reference to how she was, "Lucky not to be as attractive as my sisters, so I was exempt from...all that."

Continuing, Jen explained that the immediate plan was for Maggie and Barbara to remain in a local foster care home and finish up at Lark Creek High School. They would also be near their friends and psychiatrist. Maddie was going to move to Woodbridge, Virginia, to live with their only North American relative, a great aunt who knew the family well. Jen also said she was transferring to George Mason University to be nearer her youngest sister. There was not a touch of acrimony in this news; her only real regret was that they all could not be together, at least in the beginning. The court would reevaluate the situation every three months, a factor that Jen felt only lent uncertainty to the four girls' future stability.

The five adults stood in stunned silence as this information was calmly relayed. Judy and Mary had to fight to hold back tears, but felt all the worse when they saw Al Jacobs weeping openly in silence. When she finished, Jen again thanked the families for their children's friendship. Then she left. There was a long, painful silence before Leslie brought her squirming brother in to see his mother.

Tom and Grace spent much of the reception with Madison; the thirteen year-old, devastated by her closest sister's death, could hardly speak. Grace struggled to put her ill feelings for her aside, and was able to have some success in convincing herself that Madison's inappropriate behavior had been a result of brainwashing, not a conscious choice for immoral behavior. And when they learned that she was moving to Woodbridge, Tom pointed out that they too would be moving to Northern Virginia in nine months. This happy bit of news rallied Madison's spirits greatly.

Jesse (and Leslie when she wasn't struggling with her bored little brother) was able to enjoy more time with Barbara and could plainly see the teen needed the stability of her friends to help her along with the recovery. Like Jen, she too was unhappy with the idea of the family splitting up, but Maggie would have her license soon and they could drive a few hours to be together as often as practical, she said.

When the buffet dinner was over, and may tearful goodbyes exchanged, Jack Aarons drove Ellie back to Radford. Jesse wanted to accompany them, but saw Leslie was upset by something and went home with her and her parents. On the drive, she explained her distress.

"Jess, is Terri going to hell for killing herself? That's what the Church teaches, isn't it?"

The question surprised Jesse. Neither had spoken about religion since the break up.

"I don't think so, Les. The Church teaches us that God is merciful, and..."

"_And grave psychological disturbances or anguish can reduce the person's responsibility for what they did,_" Judy Burke finished. "I know, I looked it up, kids. I think Terri falls into that category."

"But...but she was away from the situation – her father - for weeks. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Les, I _am_ sure. And I trust...I have faith in that, too."

Leslie and Jesse returned to quiet conversation after a few moments of silence, both hoping the woman was correct. But neither knew another fact about Terri Keane's choice to take her life: It was a fact Judy and Bill Burke would not soon share with the two teens.

* * *

The next day, still feeling emotionally drained by the events of the weekend, Jesse and Leslie joined the Silliard twins and Mikey for lunch. Their fear that the other three had not heard about Terri Keane was immediately confirmed when Mikey asked where they had been all day Monday. But as soon as Jesse opened his mouth to break the news, Mikey began telling them about the weekend in Richmond.

"Jess, you _gotta_ try this Irish Dancing thing!" he declared passionately, and then was barely able to further explain for laughing. "There's a _thirty to one _girl to guy ratio!" Carol elbowed him good-naturedly and Leslie asked Jesse in a whisper if he'd like to have thirty girlfriends.

He covered his face.

Next to Carol, Lisa waved warily at Tom for him to join them.

Leslie started to ask the twins how they did at the competition while Jesse and Mikey turned to Tom, who was still looking depressed and upset by the past few days. That was when the others learned of Terri's fate. Mikey was speechless, and both Lisa and Carol, who had spent many days the past summer at the Keane's pool, were visibly upset. The mood at the table was, predictably, subdued for the remainder of the period, but breaking the news to the twins assured Jesse, Leslie and Tom that the rest of the school would know in short order.

Maggie and Barbara Keane returned to Lark Creek High School the following Monday, both clearly drained. Leslie saw and intercepted the younger teen between classes and insisted she sit with them for lunch; the invitation was immediately accepted. Maggie, Jesse saw in the cafeteria an hour later, was sitting with her tennis team friends, and even smiled at some of the comments being made. But it was Tom's behavior that was starting to concern Jesse the most.

Over the weekend of the funeral he had ridden his bike to Jesse's house and confessed to his 'lie,' and how it was bothering him. Jesse felt a familiar swell of anger and indignation building inside him, but kept it in check when he realized how distraught Tom truly was. But not comfortable with counseling a peer, especially a male peer, about this type of issue, Jesse tried to guide the conversation to less emotional topics. Tom finally told his friend that if he did not want to talk about it then he would leave, and he did. Jesse felt terrible and spoke with his father about the situation, but came away from _that_ discussion feeling like the man he needed help from had only let him down.

Then it struck him: his father had succinctly and skillfully shown him how Tom probably felt by being brushed-off.

_Duh!_

Jesse called Tom back and they talked for a while. Discussions about topics like these, Jesse concluded, were sometimes easier when you were not looking the other person in the eye.

* * *

Leslie's fifteenth birthday, October 20, was only a week away and Jesse felt comfortable enough with their mended relationship to ask her out. It would be only their second _official_ date in four years, but to Jesse it felt like their first after knowing each other only a few weeks. The physical distance they had kept from each other, apart from the occasional hug and hand-holding, was beginning to seem inadequate as their relationship continued its repair, and Jesse was wondering, more and more, if Leslie felt the same. A birthday date would be the perfect time to find out, Jesse reckoned.

Hanging around the Burke house, nervously, the Friday a week before his planned outing, Jesse was surprised how difficult it was to make the formal request of his best friend. Leslie eyed him suspiciously as he tottered back and forth on the railing of her porch, arms out, tight-rope like, thinking he had something to say. When he finally got up the nerve to speak, he turned and saw Leslie had moved to the swing and was looking down. Jesse didn't know she was doing this intentionally to keep him from being uneasy. It worked. He jumped down and sat next to her.

"Um, Les...would you like to go out next Friday for your, um, birthday...just you and me?"

"You mean it, Jess?" Leslie asked seriously, for she had begun to have doubts that what he wanted to say to her was of a positive nature.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? Oh, because of...everything?" Leslie nodded, looking up, smiling slightly. "Yes!" he announced, more definitely this time.

"I'd love to..." she replied, but reservedly. "I was hoping you'd ask. But after everything that happened I didn't know if you wanted us...us to still, you know, date like that."

_It took me a while to understand how I felt, too._

"Yeah, I do want us to...again. At least try it. I miss..." And he stopped, not wanting to say he missed kissing her and snuggling for hours on the couch, or all the other more personal things they had come to associate with each other. It was still too early for that. "I really miss being...with you...close to you, I mean." Sighing, he put an arm around his friend and she scooted closer.

"Me, too, Jess. I really am so sor..."

"Don't start apologizing again, Les, please."

She paused, and Jesse could tell she was smiling. "All right, I won't."

"Ok. Um, where would you like to go?"

"Jesse Aarons! You're the one asking me out, you should have something in mind," Leslie scolded him playfully, and poking him in the ribs.

He laughed. "I do. Mom said she could drive us into Boxley. There's a new _Rocky_ movie playing. _Rocky XI_, I think."

Both laughed, knowing there was no such show.

"Jess, does this mean I'm…_your girl_ again?" Leslie asked quietly following a few moments of silence. The question sounded a lot cornier to her now than it had two years before.

"I guess it means you're my _girlfriend_ again."

Leslie turned, smiled brightly, and gave Jesse a brief kiss on his cheek, startling him. But all-in-all, he felt it was a rather good sort of surprise.

The date came off wonderfully, for both adolescents. It was the first time both felt completely comfortable with each other again, physically and emotionally. A movie, and pizza afterwards, though only a stereotypical date, ended up being far more to Jesse and Leslie. They held hands through the entire show and talked endlessly at the Pizza Hut about school, though carefully avoiding the topics of the Keane's problems and the Jacobs' departure. It had been so long, more than three months, since the had shared as much and they felt like they were rediscovering each other.

Conversation ended up concentrating on school, athletics, and the social aspects of high school that were so different from middle school. The yearly Homecoming dance, Jesse was very surprised to learn, was not of much interest to Leslie. She told him that the informal dances, where they were not expected to get all dressed-up, were more to her liking.

Jesse lamented the grossly open attitude (and behavior) of the upperclassmen to their girl or boyfriends. Nearly everyone who had someone close would openly show affection, often to a disgusting degree. Leslie laughed, but concurred. They spoke about how, or if, they should display their affection in public and Jesse's thoughts immediately turned to the first weeks of school when boys were flocking to Leslie.

"They were not 'flocking,' Jess," she replied.

"Well, herding might be more appropriate."

Their hands were entwined across the table and Jesse squeezed Leslie's lightly. "Stick with this for now, you think?" A smile and nod were a sufficient answer.

Judy Burke picked up the kids at eleven and immediately saw that most, if not all, of their closeness had been restored. She was both happy and concerned, praying they would proceed slowly. When Jesse was dropped off, Leslie jumped out of the car with him and said she would be home soon.

"Very soon, Les. It's late."

"Mom! It's my fifteenth birthday!"

"Midnight, _princess_. Not one minute later." The mother and daughter's eyes met and Leslie nodded.

Sitting on the Aarons' porch swing for the next three quarters of an hour, little was said; holding hands and making silly faces seemed to be enough. Jesse then walked Leslie home and gave her a long hug while again wishing her a happy birthday. They broke apart and kissed briefly, neither making any attempt to deepen it.

As Jesse turned home, he couldn't help noticing how different he felt about Leslie, but try as he might, he could not figure out if it was good or bad. As he lay in bed shortly thereafter, he understood what it was: his emotions were still too raw. The repair of their friendship would take more time.

* * *

Three days after his girlfriend's birthday, Jesse was blindsided.

That Tuesday, he and Leslie were enjoying a quiet lunch of pepperoni pizza and celery sticks while their other friends were in a club meeting. A group of four freshmen, three of whom they knew from classes, sat at the table next to them. After a coupe minutes of feeling like someone was watching him, Jesse turned and saw that he _was_ being appraised.

"What'd'you want?" he snapped at the nearest teen, a boy whose name he knew to be Mike, but one of the other two boys, the one Jesse did not know, answered.

"You're Jesse Aarons, right?" His tone was friendly and eager, and disarming. Jesse immediately felt foolish for his rudeness.

"Yeah…um, this is Leslie," he pointed across the table, his voice more friendly now.

"I'm Billy Eccles, and you know Mike, Makayla, and Brian, right?"

"Um, yeah…well, sorta. What's up?"

This time Makayla spoke. She was a pretty, dark-skinned girl, though a little shy, Jesse had noticed in class, and she hung around with Mike and Brian from her middle school. Rumor had it she was a Gypsy.

"Jesse, we want you to run for class president. You…" But before Makayla could continue, Jesse started laughing. He did, however, stop quickly when he saw he had hurt the girl's feelings with his rude dismissal.

"Sorry, Makayla…"

"It's Kayla."

"Um, ok, Kayla. I wasn't trying to be rude, but you don't know me. I'd be a _terrible_ class president."

"_Bull shit_, Aarons," Eccles retorted, pointing a finger at him, then continuing in a serious tone: "We all saw you stand up to Fulcher, so we know you have guts. And we know you're a jock, so you're not lazy. And you can't be as stupid as you look…just kidding," he laughed, and the others – including Leslie – joined in. Then he held up his hands. Jesse's scowl became a smiled at the joke, and Eccles went on. "A lot of the guys from our school think you could do well, and uh, being famous helps, too."

"_What?!_" shouted Jesse, louder than he wanted, for the conversation was now being listened in on by a number of other nearby tables. "I'm _not_ famous, Eccles," he finished, setting his jaw and looking irritated.

"No, not like Burke here," he motioned to Leslie, which only made Jesse angrier.

"You leave her…"

"Don't worry, Jesse," Makayla said hastily.

"My name's _Jess_," he said, trying to calm himself again. Makayla and the others nodded. "I'm just not interested in that sort of thing, and I don't have a lot of free-time as it is."

Brian spoke up for the first time. "Ok, but think about it, would you? Give it a day or two."

Jesse begrudgingly agreed to _think about it_ after a couple more minutes of pleas from the four, but put it out of his mind as quickly as he could. He spent the last few minutes of lunch joking with Leslie about the idea, but she lit into him, saying he should take things like that seriously. Jesse responded that he was already taking it as seriously as he could.

* * *

Ellie came home the last weekend of October and Jesse was delighted to see her. It was more obvious than ever that she was holding something back, but he did not press her until after church Sunday, when she only had a couple hours before returning to Radford. They had just left the house for a walk when Leslie approached. Ellie, too caught up in what she was about to tell her brother, asked her to join them. She didn't know, however, how much Jesse wanted some private time with her. But his curiosity ended up cancelling out his irritation. They didn't go far before Jesse started talking.

"Hear from Toby?"

"Only every day; he has access to a computer and emails me." Ellie stopped and smiled, a dreamy look in her face. Then she frowned. "But he's shipping out the day after tomorrow, so we'll be out of touch for almost a month."

Leslie remained silent, holding Jesse's hand.

"So…what's the big secret, Ell?" he pressed, hoping to defuse his sister before she exploded with pent-up secrets.

"Jess, Les, you can't tell _anyone_, ok?"

Jesse grimaced, finally certain he knew what it was. "You're, um, pregnant, aren't you?"

Leslie tightened the hold on his hand, more from the shock of her boyfriend's comment than its implication.

"_NO!_" Ellie shouted, then started laughing. "I guess I can understand why you thought that. But, no…it's…_Toby and I are married_," she finished in a quiet but excited voice.

"…_What?_" both Jesse and Leslie exclaimed, not completely certain the woman was being truthful. But she smiled even wider and reached to her neck, pulling out a heavy gold chain with three rings on it.

"Yes!" Ellie practically yelled, excited she could tell someone in her family. Then she threw her arms around her brother and Leslie and finished the story. "We were married in Roanoke two days before Toby left for Georgia. I mean, it was just a simple civil ceremony. We're going to do a church wedding when he gets back. You two are the first from our families to know."

The oldest Aarons daughter let go of her captives and started dancing a little jig, laughing and then twirling until she was dizzy. Jesse was quite certain she was completely mad, but when he looked at Leslie she was smiling wistfully.

"_Jeez!_ But Ell…_ELL!_ Why'd you do it?" Jesse asked seriously.

"Why not?" she quipped. Then she sobered up. "Jess, we both know what could happen. If Toby…d-dies, he said, he wants me to have his Army benefits, to finish school and…" She trailed off, not wanting to talk about those possibilities. "Don't you see, Jess? We had two days together as husband and wife."

"And you're not pregnant?" he persisted, not knowing what else to say.

"No, Jess."

Another slightly less uncomfortable moment passed, and then Leslie spoke. "You said you want us to keep this a secret, right, Ellie?"

She nodded, and Jesse, finally coming to his senses, embraced his sister, but this time with the love and enthusiasm she deserved.

* * *

The end of October approached and the early November ninth-grade class elections were just around the corner. The freshman elections were held later in the year because many students didn't know each other, them being together in high school for the first time. Jesse, more to get his new lunch neighbors off his back than out of a real desire, finally agreed to run for class president. Makayla Flynn and Billy Eccles, upon hearing Jesse accept the candidacy, switched tables and sat on either side of their new project. Leslie watched on from across the table, with thinly shrouded amusement: Jesse scowled back. Then he was horrified to discover he was the only freshman candidate, so far, and the news went down hill from there.

_Why didn't I read the fine print…again!_

Whether there was one candidate or fifty, school rules said each had to address the entire assembled class and give a five minute introduction of him or her self, tell why they wanted the position, and what they would bring to it. Jesse scoffed as he read the rules with Leslie, Tom, and Makayla after school and before cross-country practice began. "Guess it'll be a short speech." Tom laughed, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off saying something about how it was better Jesse than him.

"Bloody wanker," Jesse muttered, using one of his friend's favorite crass British phrases, and the only one he still used regularly. Leslie's face turned bright pink and she ran off to join Barbara Keane for practice with the girl's team. Makayla, totally clueless about the idiom, asked Jesse what it meant.

"I know 'bloody' is like saying _damn_, but what's 'wanker' mean?"

Still irritated, Jesse told her to, "Ask Jacobs," and walked off to stretch. But after a few paces he turned and watched the girl go up to Tom and a couple other boys. They all stopped what they were doing, listened to Makayla, and burst into laughter. Jesse smiled widely when Makayla and Tom looked his way, waved, and then jogged off.

On the way to the track, Jesse saw Grace sitting on one of the bleachers, working on her homework. He stopped and said hello, not having spoken with her much lately. Since he and Leslie were back together, the Burke-Aarons carpool had resumed, replacing the Jacobs-Aarons arrangement. Jesse chatted a couple minutes, and later regretted almost every second.

The day was uncommonly warm for late October, and Grace had stripped off her sweater, revealing a well warn, low-cut, faded blue tank-top that, even when against her skin, left very little to his imagination about how much she had continued to mature since the beach. But she chattered away, seemingly unaware of how she was affecting her friend every time she leaned forward a little. A shout from the coach finally broke Jesse's concentration and he said he had to go. Giving him a little wave goodbye, Grace leaned over to pick up another book from her backpack and presented Jesse with a clear view of what he was curious about, and far more of it than he expected. He gasped, but the sound was drowned out by the soccer team coach yelling at someone. Any idea of being a good boy and turning away instantly evaporated, and he wondered how long he could stare without being noticed. It was almost three seconds.

"Jess?" Grace said when she looked up, expecting him to have run off. Then she noticed where his eyes were focused. She started to blush, but Jesse had finally turned away and was walking unsteadily to the center of the field to join the team.

And Jesse's time trials that day were his best ever.

Later that night, as he lay in bed thinking, two questions kept reasserting themselves: How could he get the image of Grace Jacobs' right breast out of his mind, and how he could get both of Leslie's _into_ his mind...or at least his hands?

Leslie's part in this plot was yet to be formulated, but as for Grace, in the past he had been able to draw an image from his mind, that is, transfer an image from his memory to paper; he discovered this caused the image within his head to fade far more rapidly. Jesse rolled over in his bed and picked up a pad of paper and began to work. It was difficult, as he had never drawn that much detail for that part of the female anatomy. When he finished an hour later, and as he was falling asleep, he realized that he had to hide the picture someplace safe. He closed the pad, slipped it under his bed, and made a mental note to take care of it the next day.

_

* * *

_

A/N: The Amigone funeral home (yes, it's pronounced am-I-gone) really exists in Amherst, New York, just east of Buffalo.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	46. Part 5: The Survey

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 46 – The Survey**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_The survey in this chapter was adapted from  
__Alice __in __the __Know__ by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor._

**This chapter is rated for **_**Teens**_** but contains a couple scenes with  
**_**frank sexual dialog**_**. Please do not read if you think you might be offended.  
****You can find the **_**Mature **_**rated version of this story under My Profile. IHateSnakes**

Within the first two months of ninth grade, Jesse Aarons had formulated a number of hypotheses about high school, and had good evidence to support all of them.

First was the fact that the class work was pathetically easy and fthe only way to get a real education would be to take all Advanced Placement courses. He shrewdly realized that his ignorance of this was due to his older sisters and their unending complaints about how _difficult_ high school was. Jesse confirmed this with both Ellie and Brenda, but only after promising he would never reveal the deception to their mother and father.

The second fact dealt with the students who transitioned from middle school to high school. Over the course of the summer, nearly all had degenerated from reasonably tolerable tweens into some sort of uncivilized adolescent/adult hybrid. They lost their manners, what few they had, and skillfully demonstrated that griping about being ill-treated and over-worked was the most righteous activity ever invented.

Next was the role of student government at Lark Creek High. As freshmen class president, a role he still had difficulty believing he'd been railroaded into, let alone won, Jesse found he had nothing to do. But he was relieved to see that all the other class presidents were experiencing the same sense of futility. It did not bode well, however, that the four class leaders were not leading, he reasoned.

Finally, there was the student body in general, and the male half in particular.

With the exception of nice weather days when you could eat outside, Jesse, Leslie, and whichever friends sat with them at lunch were gaining new views into their fellow students' lives, mostly vulgar and tactless ones. Based on what they heard, Jesse, Tom, and Mikey concluded, one day before any of the girls arrived, that the only things nearly all males in high school talked about were breasts, football, and breasts - not always in that order.

"Well," Tom sputtered defensively when he saw disapproval on Jesse's face, "that _is_ what guys talk about. I wonder what girls talk about?" he said with a smile and looking to Mikey, knowing Jesse would never say anything. Their friend was always talking to the twins in whispers, and with a red face.

"Breasts…" he said knowingly, looking at Tom.

"Too big or too small?"

He thought for a couple seconds. "Yes."

They laughed, even Jesse.

"Ok, what else?" Tom prodded.

"Birth control, their period, and...guys' asses."

Jesse choked. "_WHAT?!_"

"Seriously, Jess," Mikey went on to explain impassionedly, "Lisa and Carol sit around and comment on which guys' asses look cute. You know, kind of like how we rate girls' tits."

Jesse _did_ know about that, still, he buried if face in his hands for a couple seconds, groaned audibly, and wondered if _his_ ass had been rated. "_I don't want to know!_" he warned, with splayed fingers and the palms of his hands held up: Mikey was obviously about to share precisely that information. Tom chuckled until they were surprised by the voices of their female friends.

"What have you three been talking about, Mr. President?" Makayla asked, as she, Leslie, and Barbara sat.

Flustered, hoping none of the previous conversation had been heard, Jesse mumbled vaguely that they had been discussing, "Um, just, um, stuff."

"'_Um, stuff_'? That sounds interesting."

Leslie and Barbara snickered; both knew 'stuff' was Jesse's go-to phrase when he didn't want to talk about what he _had_ been talking about. Then his girlfriend leaned over and whispered, "Don't you want to know what _I_ think of your ass?"

Jesse choked again.

Mercifully, the remainder of lunch passed quietly and most of the ninth graders left with a good fifteen minutes remaining before fifth period began. Makayla lingered behind, chatting with Leslie while the blonde teen ate her celery and peanut butter; Jesse's attention faded in and out, along with his higher mental functions, due to a lack of sleep the night before. When the fifth period bell rang, he barely noticed. Makayla left whistling, _Hail to the Chief_, but Leslie turned, put an arm around his neck, and gave him an uncommonly passionate kiss that woke up at least some parts of his body. It was the only time he really liked celery: when he tasted it in Leslie's mouth.

* * *

November brought the start of the second quarter at LCHS, and Gym class changed to Health. And in high school, Health was co-ed. The teacher was named Danni Everest, an attractive, thirtyish woman who was known for her creative teaching techniques and popularity with students and faculty alike. Tom, Mikey, and Billy Eccles all agreed that they would be willing to take _private instructions_ from her, a declaration that drew groans and thrown napkins from their female classmates.

Two periods were merged for Health, and for the first time ever, Jesse, Leslie, Mikey, Lisa, Carol, and Tom shared a class together, though some others in the room were not as pleased about the arrangement. The six friends sat together and tended to be distracting with their whispered comments and note-passing. Billy Eccles and Makayla were also in the class but had enough sense to remain out of earshot of their new friends.

Following the usual admonishments for quiet, and introductions from Mrs. Everest, the first class began.

"The first five weeks of this quarter, we will be studying common situations you experience in life, and how to deal with them. Some of this is lecture, but most will be a series of projects you will work on individually or in pairs. You will randomly select an assignment from a hat," she pointed at two old stage prop top hats, one for pairs and one for individuals. "Each has a real-life situation you need to work through, and then prepare a written and oral report to share with the class. When I call your name – and they will be alphabetical, please come up and get your assignment."

Jesse glanced back at Leslie and smiled: The A's and B's were together.

"Aarons and Burke, one of you come up." Leslie was already on her way and drew a folded sheet of paper from the hat for pairs. "What's the assignment, Ms. Burke?"

Leslie blushed a little before looking up to Jesse and the class. "You just graduated from high school and decided to get married against your parents' wishes. You have ten thousand dollars a rich uncle gave you to start your life..."

"That's enough, thank you. Every assignment has a situation or problem you need to work through. You have to stay within the parameters given on the assignment sheet. Ms. Burke and Mr. Aarons will have to get married, find an apartment, and maybe go on a honeymoon, all with a tight budget. Let's look at the next pair..."

The next pair was chosen; these two had to deal with taking care of an elderly grandparent.

Then two individuals were called, one was to plan her own funeral and write a will, the other had to arrange a move to another city on short notice and a shoestring budget.

Then Billy Eccles and Makayla Flynn were called and Jesse began to think Mrs. Everest knew more about the class dynamics and history than she had let on. Billy and Makayla had gone out briefly in middle school and broken up over the summer, but were still friends. Their assignment was to buy a car and insurance for both of them, and they each had a few points on their driving record.

The most exciting part of the class was when Mikey Sellers and _Lisa_Silliard were paired-up to prepare for an unexpected pregnancy. Mikey had been dating Lisa's twin, Carol, for about a year and most of the class knew it. Carol was then chosen to bail a friend out of jail. Twice. The obvious issue there would be that the second time would be much more difficult.

There were some complaints about assignments, but Mrs. Everest refused to allow trades, a particularly thoughtless rule, Carol Silliard repeatedly announced to anyone who listened, until Mrs. Everest overheard her and reminded everyone that, "You might never experience the situation you've chosen, but everyone here _will_ have to deal with many of these things. Research the issue and be prepared to present a preliminary report to me the first week of December."

After class, Jesse and Leslie went separate ways but met again at lunch. Both found them self a little embarrassed by the assignment, but also very curious as to how the other felt. They tried to find a place away from their friends to talk, but it didn't work so they arranged to get together that evening.

At seven o'clock, Leslie was at her computer when Jesse rapped on her bedroom door. She had been expecting him and waved him in.

"Leave the door open, Jess, we don't want any trouble," she giggled. He did as was told and flopped down on her bed.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Finishing up emails from all my admirers," she laughed.

Jesse turned on his side to watch Leslie and found his face next to a bra and a green and white cardboard box. It took him a few seconds to figure out what the container held: Light Days. He discreetly set it on the floor and picked up the undergarment.

"Hey, what should I do with this, Les?"

Turning, Leslie smiled and held out her hand. "It's too small for me now…think May would like it?" she asked mischievously.

Jesse cringed as he handed her the bra. "Um, _you_ can ask her."

Leslie tossed the item in the general direction of a clothes hamper and returned to the computer. "Just a couple more, Jess… Hmmm, this looks _interesting_. Here's an email from The Piper Polling Company of Pennsylvania," she explained. "It says, 'Click here to take a brief survey and receive a confidential analysis of your passion for life and love.'"

Jesse groaned. "Don't you have your email filtering turned on? Those things are a pile of crap."

"Party-pooper. Well _I'm_ going to do it anyway. Maybe it will tell me why I'm so ignored by my boyfriend." She turned and stuck out her tongue.

"Ignored, huh? Tell you what. Let me hear the questions and_ your answers_ and I promise not to ignore you the rest of the evening."

Leslie considered the offer. "A week."

"Ok, the rest of the week."

"Deal! This should be interesting," Leslie said as she clicked on the BEGIN button.

The screen went blank for a moment before the instruction panel appeared. It contained the usual poll disclaimers ending with an admonition to answer truthfully if you want to receive an honest evaluation. Leslie read it all aloud to Jesse, ignoring his warning, "_Hmmm,_" at the last bit of instruction. She clicked on NEXT and the first questions appeared asking for age, gender, and a couple other innocuous items.

When Leslie clicked NEXT again, the real questions began.

"Here's the first question: 'Do you have a boyfriend?' My options are 'Yes, No,' and 'Working on it.' I said yes…thought you might need to hear that."

Jesse groaned, but got off the bed and pulled a chair up behind Leslie.

"Ok, question number 2: 'How often do you and your boyfriend kiss?' _Ewww, scandalous!_ The options are 'Seldom, Sometimes, Frequently,' and 'All the time.' Hmmm…What do you think, Jess?"

"I think it's all a _waste_ of time, _but_…frequently is probably accurate. Agree?"

"Sure. Next, question 3: 'Have you ever gone…skinny-dipping with him?' _Ahem._ 'Yes, No,' and 'Might be fun.'

Leslie clicked an answer.

"Hey! You said you'd tell me your answers, Les!" Jesse protested, trying to look over her shoulder. When Leslie glanced behind herself, she saw him smiling.

"Not such a dumb poll after all, is it? _I_ said_,_ it might be fun."

Jesse continued to smile, especially seeing Leslie's neck turning pink. "What's the next one?" he asked eagerly.

"It says, 'Have you ever had a sexy dream about your boyfriend?' How do they know I have a boyfriend? This must be bogus!"

"Les, they know you have a boyfriend because you told them you have one. First question." Jesse chuckled to himself; Leslie almost never missed something like that.

_Getting flustered, Les?_

"Let's hear what the answers are."

"'Never. Now and then, Can't remember one,' and 'Can't forget them.'" Jesse burst out in laughter. "Ok, _you_ take the survey next," Leslie snapped, but Jesse did even better.

"Sure, in fact, I'll take it with you…substituting the proper gender, of course."

Leslie seemed pleased with this and scrolled back to the top so Jesse could see the first few questions again.

"Um… One is yes, two is frequently, three is might be fun. There. Feel better?" He kissed the top of Leslie's head and she nodded.

"So…? What's your answer for number four?"

Sighing, he said, "Can't forget them."

"Really?" Leslie exclaimed in surprise, but then recalled Jesse's tremendous gift of memory and gave him a suggestive smile that made the boy blush. "I'd have to say 'now and then' myself. Ok, five...'Have you ever been touched intimately? Yes' or 'No.' Does last June count?"

Jesse shrugged. "I guess...barely."

"Ok, that's a yes for me. How about you?"

"_What?!_ You should know."

"Jesse, I haven't really touched you…_Oh!_ You mean _there_? I don't think that counts, I just, you know, felt it on my leg."

"Ok, then no."

_Right...maybe we can change that... _

They looked at number six. Jesse coughed and Leslie's eyes opened wide. "_Wow!_Ok, forward… 'Have you ever undressed in front of your boyfriend? Yes' or 'No.' That's 'girlfriend' for you, Jess," she informed him.

Both said "No" at the same time, giggling, and wondering why there wasn't a "Not yet" option.

Jesse leaned over and rested his arms on Leslie's shoulders awaiting the next question.

"'Have you ever had sex? Yes, No, Can't remember.' Ugh, that last one's an unappealing thought. No for me and you."

"Wait," Jesse said, snickering.

"Why? Want to change your answer?" Leslie asked warningly.

"No, I wanted to do this." He leaned over and gave his girlfriend a kiss.

"Uh-huh, I bet you were going to make some chauvinistic joke, weren't you?"

"No…well, I was just wondering how they would describe what sex _is_…exactly."

Leslie grinned and did her Bill Clinton impersonation: "'_I guess it depends on what your definition of is is.'_Ok, Aarons, you got yourself out of that one, too. You're getting devious, you know that?"

"_Me?_"

"Yeah, you," Leslie giggled, poking him in the side. "'How many times a week…' _HOLY CRAP!_"

"Just read it, Les," Jesse told her, immensely curious about what could rattle her so.

Leslie did, as quickly as she could, without slurring the words and having to repeat it. "'How many times a week do you masturbate? Never, once, a few times, every day.'"

"Whose idea was this?" Jesse asked rhetorically. But there was something odd in his tone and Leslie turned around.

"Both of ours. Want to finish?"

Jesse swallowed hard and nodded. "As long as you're honest."

"You, too."

"I promise. What's your answer, Les?"

"You go first."

"No way – I went first last time."

Leslie pouted and turned back to the laptop. She clicked the third choice, _c_. Jesse noticed her neck was becoming crimson.

"Your turn," she said, almost inaudibly.

There was a _very_ long pause, but Leslie didn't push him. Finally he told her.

"Um...I'm not sure, maybe between _b _and_ c_."

"_REALLY?!_" Leslie almost shouted; Jesse shushed her. "I never would have thought! Jesse Aarons - especially with that Catholic background."

"I go to confession a lot," he noted sourly.

The funny thing was, Jesse realized, it had been _much_ easier admitting something that personal to Leslie than to the priest. He wondered why.

Leslie turned and gave him a quizzical look. "Jess, I'm just curious…why did you say you weren't sure…how many times? I mean, you don't have to answer…sorry." She turned back to the computer.

"No, it's ok, Les. I…I just, um, _started_, um, did it the first time only a few months ago."

"Oh, I see…"

"Um… What about you?"

Leslie appeared shy and again turned back to Jesse, and her face was even darker red. "I guess…a couple years."

The room had become so quiet the fan on the laptop sounded loud.

"Does that make you an expert?" he quipped, trying to ease Leslie's embarrassment.

She giggled quietly. "A _master _masturbator?"

"Tom probably gets that title," Jesse laughed.

"I don't know, Jess. You'd be surprised at the number of girls who _do it_."

"Have…_sex_?"

"No! Masturbate…regularly."

"_How would you know? Do you talk about it with each other?_" a panicked Jesse asked, clearly horrified.

"Some do. I've never been that open, even with Gracie. You're the only person I, uh, ever told this to, though Mom and I have talked about it some. She thinks it's a good way to keep from getting too horny."

Jesse stared, open-mouthed. "Like fighting fire with fire? No wonder she had problems with the Catholic Church."

"Yes, that _is_ one issue."

The two friends sat quietly, each lost in thought, but not really dwelling on their most recent topic; rather, how they felt about sharing personal beliefs. And both knew this had been another step in building a loving relationship. After a few minutes, they looked at each other, held hands, and gave what could best be described a content and affectionate smile. Then Leslie sighed. "Thank you, Jess. I love you."

"Me, too. But, um, maybe we should finish this and get back to work?"

"Yeah, here's the last question: Uh, never mind, we're going to skip that one. Look."

Reading the question and answers make Jesse nauseous. "Skip it."

"Gladly. Ok, it says 'click here' to submit and find out what my passion for life and love is. I'm so excited," she said with some degree of _false_ excitement. "Ok…."

Just then, Leslie's cell phone rang: She dashed to her nightstand to retrieve it.

"It's Grace or Tom," she said, looking at the caller ID. "Hello? Hi Gracie, what's up?... Uh, yes I did…how'd you know that?...Yes...no, not yet, why?"

Jesse, reviewing the questions and answers to the survey, heard a loud gasp and looked around to see Leslie's face lose nearly all its color. She stuttered through a quick goodbye and turned.

"_Jess! Don't – touch – the computer_. Tom and a bunch of others got the same email. When they hit submit, their answers were sent out to everyone on the school emergency contact distribution list." Leslie flopped back on her bed. "Oh. My. God. I am going to _kill_ the person who started this. I don't mind sharing that with you, but… _And how do we get rid of it?_" she cried in a panic, pointing an accusing finger at the offending machine. "Can I just shut down the computer?"

Jesse turned his attention to the laptop. "Let me check." After a minute, he found that selecting the same answer twice appeared to erase the selection. Next, he disconnected the Ethernet cable and closed the internet browser. To be completely safe, he restarted the browser and cleared the cache.

"That should do it…I hope. Just be sure to delete that email and mark the sender as Junk so you won't get it again."

Leslie stood and hugged Jesse, thanking him, then returned to her computer to do as he said. But when she maximized her email application, they both saw that her inbox was flooded with eighty-seven new messages, most giving the survey results of a different student at the school, the last few were warnings not to take the survey. They looked at each other. "Should we peek?" Leslie asked impishly, arching her eyebrows.

Jesse smiled back. "Maybe one or two. See any email addresses you recognize? But don't pick Tom's; we can probably guess his answers."

Both adolescents dissolved into a fit of laughter.

"That's Mikey's, maybe...no, look here, that's Fulcher's. I wonder what the 'n' is for."

"Nitwit, nincompoop, numbskull, nasty, nuts..."

Laughing, Leslie agreed. "Want to look?"

"Sure, it might be good for blackmail."

Leslie opened the email and they scanned the answers.

"That was a waste, he doesn't even jerk-off," Jesse complained.

Leslie slapped his arm playfully and told him not to be crude. "Besides, he only _says_ he doesn't; but yeah, it was a waste. Do you see one you want to look at? _Ohmygosh!_ Kayla! That's her email address. How about...?"

"_No._ I might have trouble looking at her if she admitted to…to something nasty."

Snorting out a laugh, Leslie looked further. "Ok...how about…I think this one's Lindsey Bailey, that bitchy girl who was yelling at Lisa the other day."

"Sure."

Opening the response, they found it only slightly more interesting.

"Hey, she's been skinny-dipping. Who's she going out with? Lucky guy, I'm jealous!" Again, the words flowed effortlessly and Jesse hardly realized what he'd said.

"Jess, I'm afraid it's gotten too cold for us to do that until next year," Leslie replied matter-of-factly. Not sure if she was serious, Jesse remained silent. Eventually she asked, "Want to look at some more?"

For a moment he considered it, but shook his head. "No, I don't reckon we should." He saw Leslie's face fall for a second, but then she nodded in agreement.

"You're right."

As she started deleting the messages, Jesse came up from behind again and wrapped his arms around her neck, resting his cheek on her head. "We've never really shared things like this before: you know, deep stuff – personal stuff."

Leslie leaned to the side so Jesse's head would slip next to hers, turned, and kissed his cheek. Then she pulled his arms from around her neck and clamped them to her chest, humming a single, long, content note.

"No, we don't. It was certainly different. I feel...I guess I've _always_ felt I could tell you anything."

"Me, too," he said, almost in a whisper into her ear. "I'm glad."

Against his arms, Jesse could feel that Leslie was wearing nothing under her t-shirt. Her breasts, pressed against his forearms, were soft and foreign, and the experience set his mind awhirl, leaving him a bit dizzy, breathless, and annoyingly, uncontrollably aroused – for the third or forth time that evening. They stayed in that position for a long minute, until Mrs. Burke could be heard bringing Jimmy up for a bath.

"Les?" Jesse whispered urgently, warningly.

Sighing, Leslie said, "I know, I know," and slowly removed the arms around her. Jesse was certain she was intentionally doing it slowly, not that he was complaining.

"How's the project going you two?" Judy called from the hallway.

Leslie replied casually, "Great, we've learned a bunch of interesting things." Jesse's mouth dropped open in disbelief and he gave Leslie a horrified look. She just smiled back. "We're about finished for tonight. Jess is hungry, so I'm going to set him loose in the kitchen."

"Ok, see you later, Jess."

"Night, Mrs. Burke, and thank you." On the way out, he stuck his head in the bathroom. "Bye, Jimmy."

Still unable to pronounce some consonants, the boy called out "Ba, ba, Jeff," and went back to playing in the slowly filling tub.

When they were down the steps, Leslie led Jesse to the front hall, not the kitchen.

"What are...?"

"Shush. Kiss me," Leslie instructed, but didn't wait for her boyfriend to start. Throwing herself at him, Jesse felt like he was being devoured, and it was pure bliss. A couple minutes later and he found himself pinning Leslie tightly against the wall and his hands running up and down her sides. Now and then he felt the softer flesh at the edge of her breasts brush past his thumbs as her shirt was slowly migrating upward. Leslie seemed to gasp with each of these touches, but did nothing to stop him, and he could tell by her enthusiasm that she wished her parents were not home. Yet Jesse did not feel comfortable, though sorely tempted, to take advantage of the situation and Leslie's easily accessible breasts.

Another minute passed, and then, unlike in June, _Jesse_ abruptly pushed himself back a few inches. His reasons now were about the same as Leslie's then. Arms around his neck, and pulling herself up to his ear, she whispered, "You right, Jess, you should leave now."

"What? _Why?_" he asked automatically, though he knew the answer.

Then what she said into his ear caused Jesse to forget his embarrassment, and forget to breathe. When he did at last, he told her, "I understand." And did. There was something in Leslie's face that he'd never seen before. It was alluring and frightening; caged and wild. He gave her a quick kiss and left while he had the strength and she had the willpower.

The walk to his house was slow, quiet, and thoughtful. Recalling her honesty that night, Jesse realized that whenever a question about Leslie Burke was answered, two more popped up. And this evening, he again comprehended, had been an important barrier they had breeched; not from the sensory input of his lips, hands, and arms, but because of what they had shared. He was both content and astonished with his openness, and felt closer to Leslie Burke than he ever had before. This time, however, the closeness was deeper than the usual comfort and companionship he experienced when together with his best friend.

He also knew that he was correct to stop their kissing and touching, and she was correct to send him away: During the last minutes in the Burke's front hallway, Armageddon could have been exploding around them and he would not have noticed.

* * *

When he reached his house, Jesse saw Ellie sitting on the porch swing wrapped in a blanket. She immediately waved at him as he ran up to sit with her, accepting a hug. But she didn't let go.

"Something wrong, Ell? _Is Toby ok?_"

"Yeah, we're ok; I just needed to see you."

The statement shouldn't have shocked Jesse; this was the second time she had said that to him recently. But while he was flattered, he couldn't help wonder why the brother whom she had tormented for thirteen years was now her second best friend. _Then again_, he realized,_ that might be the answer_. He moved a little closer and held her tighter. "Sure, Ell. Any time."

A few seconds later, Ellie started to laugh. "Jess?"

"…_Yeah?_"

"I'm pretty liberal, but watch your hands; I'm your sister, not Leslie." Ellie twisted away and Jesse felt his hand pulled out of danger, slipping away from the warmth between Ellie's chest and her left breast. He had thought his hand under her arm.

"_Oh crap_..._sorry, sorry, sorry!_" he squeaked, face instantly darkening. In sliding away, he got a splinter in his butt.

Ellie laughed all the harder as Jesse fumbled to pull the sliver of wood out, but quickly sobered up, explaining her presence. "It's alright, Jess, don't worry… Uh, Toby's last email a few days ago said they would be moving into Iran soon. Maybe today..." She trailed off and Jesse could see tears coming down her cheeks. "Oh, Jess…_I'm so scared!_" she sobbed.

He cautiously moved closer and put his arm around her shoulder this time. After a while, she calmed down and Jesse started talking again.

"Did Dad bring you home?"

"No, I have to be back early tomorrow for class so I borrowed Amy's car."

Amy, Jesse knew, was a friend Ellie had made and who lived in Baxley.

"Dad chewed me out for coming home. 'Gas is too expensive. Blah, blah, blah.' As if I didn't know that! Who paid for it? I did."

"Ell, if you need money, please let me know, I do have _some_ to spare..."

"No, Jess, but thank you. It's not like I do this every week."

"I know. Dad can still be a butt-head at times, can't he?"

Ellie nodded. "At least it's better now. A lot better. Can you imagine what he'd be like if he still had that other job?" Ellie gave a little shiver and took a few deep breaths to calm down more. "So...what were you and Leslie doing? When you got here your face was beet-red." She elbowed him gently, hoping an interesting story from her brother would take her mind off her husband. She got one, too.

Jesse motioned for his sister to follow him and they retreated to his room. When the door shut, he wasn't sure why or how, but the words just spilled out. "She kinda said we were about to have sex…"

With a disbelieving look on her face, Ellie tried to clarify. "She _offered you sex?_ _Did you turn her down?_"

"No, not exactly _offered_, I guess, she, um, kinda _threatened_ it." He explained more clearly how both had felt out of control and thought it best that he go home.

"You two have a very _interesting_ relationship," Ellie said dryly as she sat on the end of her brother's bed. "What caused all this? Were you two making out?"

Jesse explained about the survey, including a brief, red-faced recap of the last question.

Ellie did a double take. "_Excuse me?_ Masturbating? Were you talking about it or practicing?"

"Just talking..._really_."

"That makes sense," Ellie replied after a brief pause. "Jess, some people really get turned-on by talking about that stuff. I'm sure that's what happened with Les." A devilish smile passed over her face and she unconsciously looked in the direction of the Burke's house. "I bet she's finding some relief right now."

"_Ell! Cut it out._"

"Why? Don't you think about these things, Jess? And don't give me that _I'm only fourteen_ look again. Don't you feel..._urges_ when you're with Les?"

"Yeah, _of course_," he answered dolefully, having not forgotten the recent scene in the Burke's foyer.

"Good, then there's _some_ hope for you." Both paused and considered the other; Ellie saw she had gone a bit too far. "I'm sorry, Jess. Your...convictions are admirable. I just don't want to see you lose Leslie because you're afraid to touch her boobs."

Jesse gave a little snort of laughter. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"_Really?!_ You tried to feel her up?" Ellie asked eagerly, suddenly more impressed with her brother.

"No...Well, yes. That happened months ago."

At that moment, Ellie was paging through one of Jesse's sketchpads and happened upon his drawing of Grace Jacobs' breast. It took the boy a lot of coaxing to admit whose it was. When he finally disclosed the owner's identity, Ellie burst out laughing again.

"You _still_ have the hots for her, Jess? Or just a little action going on the side?"

Jesse was horrified. "_NO!_ I just...it was one...an accident, I swear!"

Ellie nodded disbelievingly and watched her brother's face go scarlet.

"Then why do you have this drawing? And I must admit, it's _very_ realistic, and looks like you put _a lot_ of effort into it."

"Cut it out, Ell!" Jesse grabbed the pad back, slipping it under his bed covers. But she laughed all the harder.

"Planning on using that later, little bro?"

There must have been a noticeable degree of guilt on Jesse's face, for Ellie winked again and muttered something that sounded like, "Have fun."

Jesse shrugged, conceding the point and moving on. "Anyway, then there was the incident with Grace, and now I can't get her – Leslie's - _boobs_ out of my head. Funny thing is, she told me once she didn't think they were her best asset."

Ellie looked confused for a moment and then laughed. "Jess, take my word for it, she's got a _fine_ rack. Not large, but..."

"_How would you know?_" he nearly shouted as a twinge of jealousy shot through him.

"The Keane's. We changed together a couple times." A scowl came across her face, then a look of horror. "I hope that bastard didn't have any cameras in that room, too."

"Then why would she say something like that?" Jesse asked, trying to get the conversation back to Leslie's statement.

"Maybe she's not a _breast woman_." Seeing Jesse's confusion at the term, Ellie explained further. "Women think some parts of their body are prettier or more alluring than others. And Les is a very pretty girl, in many ways. She might think her hair or legs are her best physical asset. So there's something for you to discover about her: what she believes is her best physical attribute."

"Hmm, ok...maybe." But he wasn't so sure, based on the reaction his hands evoked earlier that evening. "Ellie, is…s-sex good…I mean fun…all the time?"

Again, the older sister found herself unable to answer her brother's question, at first, due to shock. She sat and thought for a minute.

"_All the time?_Hmm, I've never really thought about it, Jess…and it's not a yes or no question, I think. Maybe…it could be considered good all the time for one of the partners. Of course, the goal is to make it good for both, but sometimes that doesn't happen."

Ellie scooted over to Jesse and put her arm around his shoulder. "Look, little bro, making sex good or fun is all about sharing and giving and learning how to be intimate with someone. It's more than just a bodily function…"

"I kinda guessed _that_: Not exactly on the same level as taking a dump, is it?"

Ellie pushed Jesse off his bed and he landed heavily on the floor. "Don't _you_ get disgusting. It might be fun to talk to your guy-friends that way, but it can turn a girl off real quick!"

"Ok, ok. Sorry."

"Oh…get up. Now listen to me. If I've learned anything, it's that you can't rush love. So if it's love you're after with Leslie Burke, find some other outlet for your urges until both of you are ready. And both of you feeling _hot_ is not a sign that you're ready.

Before speaking, Jesse considered all Ellie had said. _She's changed a lot more than I thought._ "How did you get to be so smart?" he asked, more as an expression of admiration than a show of surprise.

"From being _stupid_ for so long, that's how."

* * *

Makayla Flynn was sitting at their regular lunch table when Jesse and Tom arrived the following day. Leslie was eating with the drama department, Barb was also missing from lunch, eating with the yearbook committee, and the twins and Mikey were in the hallway arguing about the Health assignment. Being identical twins, Carol argued, she wanted to switch places with her sister so she and Mikey could be together.

Lisa refused. "We're not _identical_, we're _mirror_," she reminded her sister. "If Mrs. Everest sees which hand we're writing with we'll probably fail the assignment."

Carol became angrier than ever and walked off in a huff. Mikey followed, but Lisa sat in the hallway sulking through the period.

Back in the lunch room, and for the first time all year, an unwelcome face appeared behind Jesse, one Tom was loathe to point out.

"Manning." It was all he needed to say.

Jesse glanced back and saw his other nemesis sitting with Gary Fulcher along with a third vaguely familiar face, an upper classman, but one he could not place. Ricky Manning turned just then and saw Jesse watching. The face was blank, but then showed a slight smile. Jesse hoped Manning had learned his lesson and would discontinue tormenting him and his friends. That illusion lasted all of two seconds; Manning brought his hands up to his face making like he was holding an invisible camera, snapping pictures. Simultaneously, Jesse and Tom flipped him off.

"I can't believe he got out of juvie so soon, bloody wanker."

Makayla coughed, blushed, and then asked, "What was that about?"

"Just an old friend," laughed Tom. Jesse said nothing, which only sparked the girl's interest more, but she waited to see if Tom, who was a fast eater, would leave and give her a chance to ask Jesse for details.

And that was exactly what happened. Ten minutes later, Jesse was going through his calendar and marking off some assignment due dates, but when asked, stopped to give a more complete explanation of the events from the previous year. With each detail, Makayla's eyes grew wider and her face darker, though he omitted many of the details which could lead her to the Keane family's situation.

"That's _horrible_, Jess. I'm glad Tom and Leslie were ok."

Jesse smiled and went back to entering the assignments. A minute later Makayla interrupted him again.

"Jess, would you check your calendar, please? Do you have anything scheduled for January 20? Uh, during the evening?"

"Ok…January 20th…nope, why?"

"Would you like go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me?" she asked brightly. And hopefully.

Jesse looked up slowly. "Um…Kayla…you know Les and I are going out, don't you?" _He_ knew full well _she_ knew.

"Yes…but are you…_serious_?"

"Yes…Very."

"Ok, just thought I'd try." She sighed and started to collect her things.

Jesse looked at her again. "Thank you for asking, Kayla," he said sincerely. "If…well, thanks."

Makayla gave him a stern look. "That's not fair, Jess. '_If_' what?"

_How do I always do this to myself?_

"If things were different I would have accepted, that's all. Hey! Why don't you ask Tom? I _know_ he'd go with you!"

Makayla gave him a skeptical look. "Thanks, but I'd plan on remaining a virgin past ninth grade."

"Oh…yeah, ok, um…good idea," Jesse sputtered. He wanted to say Tom's reputation was badly overinflated, but he was not as certain as he used to be.

With that, Makayla rose, smiled at her new friend, and left the cafeteria. Jesse didn't relax until she was gone and then turned back to finish with his calendar. He hardly had a chance to pick up his pencil, however, when someone sat heavily on the bench next to him. On the other side of the table, Manning and Fulcher stood, silent, threatening.

"How's life, Aarons? Looking for a new girlfriend?"

Jesse smiled in spite of his fear. "I'm great, thanks for asking, Manning. How are the new teeth?"

Neither boy moved, but both smiled. "Like you to meet a friend of ours, Aarons," Fulcher said, speaking for the first time. "This is Steve: Steve _Hoager_. He's a senior, plays middle linebacker for the football team."

Jesse looked at the person next to him and made a quick appraisal. Six three, about two-twenty… He also saw something none of the other three had noticed and made a snap decision. Picking up his calendar and backpack, Jesse stood, looked at Fulcher and Manning, and calmly and contemptuously said, "So is this it now? You two have all the brains had he has all the muscle? I'm shaking in my shoes."

The last jab, Jesse knew, was not wise, but he couldn't resist. And besides, he had something the other three did not know about. The older Hoager jumped up, nearly knocking Jesse over simply by his size, but grabbed the front of his sweatshirt jacket with two large hands, ostensibly to provide some intentional bumps of his own.

"_Mr. Hoager_, is there a problem here?" a voice called out. An adult voice. Jesse had seen one of the infrequent lunchroom monitors strolling in their direction and taken the opportunity to use his presence as a shield.

"_Nah_, just keeping Aarons here from falling." Hoager opened his hands and Jesse nearly stumbled again, not realizing that the senior had picked him up enough that he was on his toes.

"That's nice of you Mr. Hoager. If you and your…friends are done eating, then get out of the hall. You know the rules. I'm sure you wouldn't want to earn a detention and not be able to play this Friday, would you? Particularly with that scout from Penn State coming to the game."

Neither Hoager, Fulcher, nor Manning said a word, but turned, retrieved their things from the table, and walked out of the room. Jesse was straightening up his shirt when he caught the adult's eyes. They held a perfectly clear message: _You were lucky this time, kid, I might not be here the next._

* * *

"So Kayla's after you now?" Leslie asked as she looped her arm through Jesse's between classes, but he just snorted in response. "You know, Jess, you _have to_ go to the dance with her, she asked you first. That's the rules of Sadie Hawkins."

"Oh, please, Les! And why do they have the stupid thing in January? I thought Sadie Hawkins day was this month sometime."

"It conflicted with that big annual fundraiser, I heard. So, what are you going to do?"

"About what?"

"_Kayla!_ You have to go with her, you know."

"No way!" Jesse stated, stopping and pulling Leslie out of the throngs of students cramming the hallway. "Why don't you ask me?"

"Doesn't matter; she asked first."

"Then I won't go…and why are you so set on me going with her?" he asked, becoming irritated.

"Oh, don't get mad, I'm just teasing you," Leslie finally admitted, giving Jesse a quick kiss. "We have to go; did you tell her to ask Tom?"

Jesse explained Makayla's comment about that possibility. Leslie cringed.

"Ok, I'll think of something…" They started out for class again through the noticeably thinner crowd of students. There was only one minute before the next bell.

"Les, there're a hundred other guy in ninth grade; she can probably find someone on her own."

"No, she's too shy. Billy told me she'll only do things with people she knows."

"Well, I don't want another Grace Jacobs, so please don't ask her to go with us. See you later." And with a short wave, Jesse headed to biology while Leslie frowned and turned into her AP English classroom, having forgotten to ask her boyfriend to the dance.

* * *

While autumn reached its peak in Lark Creek, Jesse and Leslie's Health project began to take shape. Without the distraction of another poll appearing on her computer, Jesse would lay on the bed while Leslie typed ideas they had thought up. After a couple brainstorming sessions, these ideas were broken into a number of general headings and sub-headings.

"What do we have now?" Jesse asked for the twentieth time.

"One: Wedding; Two: Reception; Three: Honeymoon," Leslie turned and batted her eyes dramatically. "Four: Apartment selection; Five: Furnishings; and Six: Miscellaneous. Let me print it out for you."

Then began the process of prioritizing each activity, in case they ran out of money before finishing.

"Wedding first, you reckon?" Jesse asked.

"No, Jess, we need to find a place to live first."

"Ok. How about a third-floor, three-roomer overlooking the valley?"

"Budget, Jess! Hang on; let me check apartment prices around here." Leslie spent the next few minutes grumbling, but eventually found a couple possible places. "This one is smaller, and doesn't have a view, but it's in our price range. We'll have to pay 1,200 up-front for security and utility fees it says."

"How much smaller is it?"

"One bedroom. I can't believe how _expensive_ this is!"

Jesse grumbled. "Ok, bookmark it. If we have more money when we're done with the other things maybe we can upgrade." But he doubted his words. "Wedding?"

"_Yes!_" Leslie cried, a little overenthusiastically. "Sorry. Under Wedding we have: invitations, gown, tux rental, flowers, music, limo, rehearsal dinner, and fees. I looked around and got a price range on gowns that looked pretty; they run from 350 to 6,000. Maybe we should budget...500?"

Jesse felt awful when he saw the look on Leslie's face, but they had already spent 1,700 of their 10,000. "Ok, hopefully we can do more."

By the time they were finished with the wedding and reception, nearly 8,000 had been spent. Both adolescents were aghast, and more than a little down. Nearly every item they had chosen was at the lower end of the price range, including a DJ who would play for practically nothing to get his business going and renting a tent for an outdoor reception. This left just over 2,000 for their apartment furnishings and a honeymoon.

Leslie flopped onto the bed next to Jesse and groaned. "We _could_ elope, Jess. It would save a ton of money."

"Yeah, I thought of that, too, but I want you to have a nice wedding. I know how much it means to you."

Repositioning herself, Leslie kissed Jesse long and deeply. She knew it was only a school project, but she felt they were both taking the decisions seriously, as if they were planning for a real event. A jolt of something hot and stimulating coursed through her body at this notion, and, having just broken away from her boyfriend's lips, immediately returned until they were again interrupted by the approach of an adult. Leslie quickly returned to the desk, thankful for a bed that didn't creak, and Jesse flipped onto his stomach and wiped off his mouth.

"Any ideas where Jess and I could go for an inexpensive honeymoon, Mom?" Leslie called into the hallway as Jesse groaned and shook his head. But it was her father who answered.

"Any place that doesn't require driving or flying will be cheep. Why don't you go backpacking?"

"Honeymooning at a KOA? Yeah, we'll think about that. Thanks, Dad." Leslie glanced back to her bed and did a _gag-me _motion with her finger. Jesse was already trying not to laugh aloud.

The reality of life, however, ended up making a weekend trip to the Roanoke KOA a distinct possibility as they spent most of their remaining funds on furnishings for the apartment.

"Camping might be fun," Leslie said wistfully, "Though more privacy is usually what newlyweds want, I've heard. Have you ever been camping?"

"Just a couple times when I was about six or seven and we went to Smith Mountain Lake."

"We should go sometime…maybe with Tom and Grace before they leave."

Jesse gave Leslie and incredulous look. "You think our parents would let us go away overnight, Les?"

"No, I guess not, I didn't think of that. So much for my great plan…But it is odd, Jess: For years they've let us hike into the mountains by ourselves. Didn't they think something could be going on then?"

_Damn! Why didn't I think of that, either!_

"Must be because it's during the day. We all know nothing happens during the day," Jesse said sarcastically.

"Anyway, it looks like we have a choice between, one: no honeymoon, two: no apartment furnishings, or three: elope. I mean, Jess, we can't cut back any more on the wedding without asking the guests to pay their own way." Frustrated, Leslie sighed and flopped back down on the bed next to Jesse.

"You run out of money?" Judy Burke's voice startled them just as Jesse was turning to kiss Leslie.

"Pretty much. Everything is so expensive!"

"Welcome to the real world. You could elope," Judy suggested.

"You'd want us to?"

"We're estranged, remember? You and Jess aren't talking to us, so our opinion should have little bearing on your choices."

"That's true, Mrs. Burke, but it still doesn't get us more money."

"If you elope, you would…"

"But I want Les to have a nice wedding! Running off to the county judge is hardly something to remember."

Leslie took his hand. "Jess, we _could_ postpone the party and have a simple civil ceremony until we earned more money. It's _you_ I want, not a fancy wedding."

The kids continued to discuss their options, but Judy Burke stood, stunned by her daughter's last comment.

_Had she meant it to come out so honestly? And Jesse didn't flinch… No, she's just getting into the spirit of the project._

Watching on, she was not surprised to see how lovingly they each considered the other's feelings, as if they were planning…. Of course, little was resolved with such accommodating behavior, and Jesse went home later grumbling about having only two weeks remaining for the project. When Leslie returned to her room after seeing Jesse to the door, her mother was waiting.

"Les, I would rather you didn't…" Then she stopped, aborting the planned statement that would prevent Jesse from being in the room with her, and on her bed with her. "I just want you to know your father and I can help with this project, if you need it. We might have some ideas."

"Ok, Mom. Thanks."

* * *

In bed that evening, Judy brought up what she had seen and heard in their daughter's room. Bill nodded, actually listening to his wife and not typing.

"They're cute together," was his guarded response.

"Yeah, like two decked-out trolley cars on a collision course. Bill, I feel helpless! You didn't see Les the other night after Jess went home."

"What're you talking about?"

"She had _that look_."

"Huh? Which one? The _screw me now, Jess_ look you've been warning me about?" Judy nodded. Bill sighed. "Have you talked to Mary?"

"Not yet, but would you talk to Jack…please? I can't think of anything else to say to Leslie."

Sighing again, Bill nodded. "We're meeting with the lawyers Friday about the land; I'll take him out for a beer afterwards."

"Thank you, love."

"And why don't you try giving Les an incentive? Hint at the spring trip."

Judy thought about this for a moment. "Ok, that might work. But we both know how hard it is to fight the urges at their age."

"We can't lock them up, Jude." Looking at the clock, Bill yawned. "How are _you_ feeling?"

"Pretty good this time. Have you checked the well water recently?" Judy asked seriously. She had lost their last child through a miscarriage brought on by contaminated well water.

"Every week. How do you think Les will take the news?"

"Probably a lot better than me finding out I'm going to be a grandmother."

"Uh, yeah…"

* * *

Judy, and the passage of time, had finally reconciled the differences she had with her sister, Joan, and the Burke's visited Arlington for Thanksgiving, and for the first time since their-falling out so many months before. Leslie was happy to see her aunt again and share with her some of the advances she and Jesse had made in their friendship. But Joan repeatedly forced a change of topics on her niece to prevent another family fight. Leslie understood, but still brought up a few things that Joan begrudgingly answered or opined over.

Back in Lark Creek, at dinner the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, Leslie was resolved to speak with her parents about the gradual but definite changing level of intimacy with her boyfriend. She didn't feel confrontational, but _was_ interested in hearing what her parents considered an appropriate next step. The talk with her mother five months earlier, following Jesse's abbreviated attempt to touch her breasts, and the new limits Leslie had had imposed upon her, already felt out-of-date. (And particularly in light of what had occurred the night she and Jesse had taken the survey.) Holding hands, French kissing, and, as her mother had put it, "Fully-clothed, above-the-waist, non-lingering, light petting," seemed so last-week.

It was time to renegotiate.

"Mom, Dad, _ahem_," Leslie started. But suddenly feeling far less brave than she had ten seconds earlier, she looked down. Clearing her throat again, she saw Jimmy watching her. He had a look on his face that said, _I know you, Les, you're about to say something that will freak-out Mom and Dad._ And he was correct.

"I was wondering...since I'm fifteen now, how much more can Jess and I do together?"

Bill continued eating, thinking Leslie wanted to know how much later they could stay out at night. Since his talk with Jack Aarons, the kids had seemed less…_explosive_, sexually. But Judy was more on the same wavelength as their daughter. "Define 'do,' Les."

"More intimate things, like touching and..."

"_Sex?_" Judy interrupted, setting her fork down and trying not to show her frustration.

"Well, not intercourse, I'm not ready for _that_." Leslie believed her clarification sufficient; however, it did little to assuage Judy's anxiety.

"That's...smart, Les. Honey, let's talk about this in private...And didn't we have this conversation last June?"

"Yes, we did, but things have changed...a little," she hurriedly added. "Jesse and I still have to work out the details, so I want your input first."

Judy cringed inwardly: '_Work out the details'? Never heard it called that before. At least she's being honest._

Bill, who was just now becoming fully aware of what the conversation was about, actually felt relieved that the kids would talk things through and not just plunge into bed together.

"Les, uh, are you talking about...what _are_ you talking about..._exactly_?" her father asked, but her mother didn't give her a chance to reply.

"I know you feel you deserve more latitude because of what happened with your father and I, but that's not a good reason to jump in the sack with Jess."

"_No_, it's not that, Mom. I'm just...we're just curious. And we _do_ love each other."

"Of that I have no doubt, sweetheart. But are you sure you're ready for this? Jesse's not even fifteen."

Leslie shrugged. "Like I said, we're not planning to have intercourse."

Bill blinked rapidly, unsure of what to say.

"Les, what is it you want from me...from your father and me? Permission for Jess to...touch you? Or are you looking for opinion and rationale? I play Devil's Advocate pretty well. We already set up limits for both of you; have things changed _that_ much?"

"Yes, I think so, Mom. And I need more information...details, about why my body does things and what it's telling me. Like when I think about Jesse at night, sometimes I touch my..."

"_Leslie!_Ok, we'll talk about this after dinner," Judy stated decisively, ending the discussion but not the dread building up in her chest. At times like this, Judy wondered why they had taught their daughter to be so open and forthcoming. When she looked to her husband, Judy saw he was regarding their son and how he would have a similar conversation with him in ten years or so.

Leaving the teen to clean up after the meal was over, Judy took Jimmy and walked over to the Aarons' house to speak with Mary, but she stopped half way there.

"Maybe I should find out what Les has in mind first, eh Jimmy?"

The toddler looked up at his mother, not having the foggiest notion of what she was talking about.

* * *

"Alright, Les, what's on your mind?" Judy asked a few hours later. Jimmy was in bed and Bill in their room writing. Leslie was lying on her bed, and Judy sat with her back to the laptop, straddling the chair.

"Did you talk to Mrs. Aarons already?" asked Leslie grumpily.

"No, I did not. I thought about it, but wanted to hear what you had to say first."

"I love Jess." Leslie declared the moment her mother finished. Her face had instantly gone from sulky to delighted.

Judy waited for more, but it was not forthcoming. "Yes, you said that. And I believe you. What precisely do you think that entitles you and Jess doing together?"

Without blinking, Leslie dramatically wrapped her arms around her body and replied, "I want to feel Jess's hands on my skin. Sometimes...when he brushes against my breasts...well, it's..._wonderful_. I'd like to feel his hands on my whole body, not 'Fully-clothed, above-the-waist, non-lingering, light petting'."

"I'm glad to hear you remembered that much," Judy said sarcastically. "Have you two gone beyond that?"

"No, not yet. But Mom, it's going to happen, I can _feel_ it," Leslie stated earnestly.

"What else?" Judy asked.

"I just want…_more_."

_How many times do I have to say this to her?_

There was a long pause before Judy spoke again. "Leslie, you forgot something very important."

"What? _What?_" she demanded impatiently.

Judy felt like screaming. "It's _who_, not _what_. I can see _you_ want more, how about Jess?"

_How many times do I have to say this to her?_

Leslie was shocked. She tried to reply, but was not so self-absorbed to realize her error. All that came out was a quiet, "Oh."

"There's an old saying, sweetheart, 'If you aren't sure whether you are _both_ ready for intimacy, then you're not ready.' Are you _both_ ready?"

"I – I don't know," Leslie replied honestly. "I thought so, but maybe not." She recalled how it was Jesse who had stopped himself from fondling her that night, even when she had made her breasts so accessible. _She_ had wanted it, _she_ had ached for it, but _he_ had held back: _he wasn't ready_.

"Dear, you've _wanted _Jesse Aarons for years: socially, emotionally, _and_ physically. But love isn't what your father and I did, and you _know_ that. I have little doubt that you two _will_ get there. But do it together, please. There isn't a rush."

_How many times do I have to say this to her?_

Leslie flopped back down on her bed and covered her face; a mixture of emotions that almost felt crippling assaulted the fifteen year old. She knew what her mother meant, she knew _exactly_. And she also understood that making it there_ 'together_' was more than a reference to dating the boy she loved, but also to the social, emotional, physical...and spiritual bond they were building. _The whole package. Together._

Judy watched her daughter for a few minutes, having a pretty good idea of what was going on in her head. "Les, would you like an incentive?"

"For - For what? Not having sex with Jess?" Leslie now felt guilty even saying it.

"No, for keeping the same limits we spoke about in June, at least until Jess turns fifteen." Then she smiled. "Well, maybe we can relax it a little bit...but just a little."

Leslie sat up and commented, smiling slyly, "It must be a pretty good incentive."

Judy laughed. "Your father and I think so. We know Tom and Grace Jacobs are your and Jess's best friends, and that they're leaving in June. Since the summer beach trip didn't work out too well, we thought the four of you might like to spend spring break together and do something...different."

Warily, Leslie asked, "How different?"

"We still have to work out the details, and I'm very sad to inform you that your father and I will not be able to go with you..." Although she tried to hide it, Leslie's eyes brightened, until... "But Jack and Mary Aarons _will_ be accompanying you. Possibly Al Jacobs, too."

A little deflated after the initial thrill, the teen tried to keep a straight face. "Why won't you and Dad be going?" she asked.

"Les, I'm pregnant again, and due in May."

Speechless, but only for a few seconds, Leslie relieved her mother's apprehension by smiling and then jumping up to give her a hug.

Later that night, Leslie made a decision concerning something she had been considering for many months. It was obvious that the bargaining with her parents on acceptable behavior between herself and Jesse could not continue. She _was_ fifteen, after all. She would honor her agreement until Jesse's birthday in April, but after that, what happened would be between Jesse and herself – only.

* * *

10 December, 0900 Zulu, The Persian Gulf  
Above and aboard the USS Mount Megiddo, LCAC 14

Timing was everything, and though tired from weeks of flying and fighting, the crews of sixty-one strategic bombers were awake, alert, and aggressive. The eight B-2 Spirit stealth bombers, twenty-nine B-1 Lancer strategic bombers, and thirty-two B-52 Stratofortresses flew together in the largest combined bomber formation since World War II, unopposed and, except for possible mechanical breakdowns, seemingly unstoppable. Preceding the bombers were F-117 stealth fighters and F-15 fighter-bombers configured to hunt out surface-to-air missile radars, triple-artillery, and any other ground-based threats to the one hundred billion dollars of hardware that followed in the sky. And covering, protecting, and monitoring all of these were the venerable E-3 AWACS with fifty F/A-18 and F-22 fighters providing close air support from two carrier task forces in the gulf. With the Iranian air force reportedly destroyed, little air opposition was expected.

Far below the aircraft, in the waters of the Persian Gulf, there was an impressive sight, though few of the pilots could afford more than a one or two second glance to admire the view. Seventy LCAC Hovercraft and six LPD, LHD, and LSDs carried the tanks, armored personnel carriers and other assorted specialty troops and vehicles of the 116th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, the spearhead unit for the invasion of southern Iran. The fast-moving LCAC led the flotilla, and Corporal Tobias Walsh was trying to imagine how far off the coast of Bandar Abbas they were. The briefings had told his fellow soldiers that the bombers would hit just five minutes before they reached the beach, and at forty knots, five minutes was a little more than three nautical miles from the shore. And that was cutting it damn close.

There was not the slightest bit of compassion or mercy in Walsh's Bradley: _those bastards had started the war_. It was a sentiment common in the military and gave very, very few service men and women second thoughts about what would happen shortly ashore. Nearly a thousand tons of high-explosive bombs would rain down on the small port-city providing cover for the landing Army units, and hopefully destroy what little opposition that might exist.

The LCAC, an air-cushioned hovercraft, theoretically, was a smoother ride to shore, but most of the three crew and six passengers in the cramped Bradley it carried were puking, getting ready to puke, or had already puked. And the inside of the APC, Toby was sure, carried more than the odor of stomach juices: someone had crapped his pants. More than once he had to take stock and make sure it was not himself.

Another hard bounce, then the engines spun down and the ride became as smooth as a baby's behind, and that meant…

The roar of the Bradley's engine was a welcome sound, if for no other reason than it would mean the air filters were going to start and clear out some of the stench. But it also meant that the LCAC was at the rendezvous and awaiting the bombers. On the deck, next to the APC were three light vehicles, Hummers armed with machine guns, surface-to-air missiles, and communications equipment, as well as four wheeled carriers with supplies; water and fuel, mostly. Other LCAC held similar loads, including twelve with the mighty sixty-three ton Abrams M1A2 main battle tanks, the real striking power of the unit.

Toby took a long pull of water from one of his two canteens and hoped the water truck next to them made it safely to shore. Refastening the canteen to his ALICE, he sat back and waited.

And waited.

The vehicle commander's voice came over the intercom and announced a two-minute delay while the, "Dumb-ass Air Force lined-up on the correct beach." Toby was perfectly happy to wait as long as they needed, just so the right spot was bombed. Being a friendly fire casualty – or any sort of casualty – was not his idea of a successful Army career.

The Sergeant reminded everyone, for the tenth time, to check their equipment, particularly their weapons. That took thirty seconds. Then the Bradley commander's voice announced another delay.

"_What the HELL is going on out there?_" a panicked voice asked unnecessarily. The Sergeant stared the eighteen-year-old into silence. But the Bradley's radioman/gunner answered.

"A couple rag-head fighters got through the outer CAP. The Navy's smackin' 'em right now. Wanna hear?"

For no other reason than to break the tension, Walsh shouted out "Yes" along with the other five troops. Even the Sergeant had agreed. The radioman pushed two buttons and the inside of the APC was filled with static. An occasional voice broke through the noise.

"…Two MIGs…angels twenty…Blue Seven, what's your ETA?..."

"…On radar…ten secs, Big Bro…targets acquired…I have tone…locked on…missiles away…tracking both targets….splash two, Big Bro. Tell the Old Men to waltz, Blue Seven RTB to get a drink…"

The jumpy PFC across from him looked lost, but when the air battle was over, Toby told him what had happened.

"Blue Seven is a couple of our fighters. Big Bro is the AWACS steering them to intercept the MIGs. You heard them, they shot the bastards down, and Blue Seven told the Old Men, those are the bombers, they could start their run. It will probably take a couple minutes for them to get repositioned. We're good, kid, don't worry." The words appeared to help Toby, too, and he caught an appreciative glance from their Sergeant: One panicking troop in a cramped Bradley can cause deadly mayhem in no time.

Two minutes passed and little was heard over the intercom. Almost time.

The LCAC's engines revved-up and the gentle rocking of the hovercraft became sharp little bounces as the craft began a slow circle before heading into the beach. Two loud tones were heard from the front of the vehicle, Toby knew they were the warning tones for the bombers. The Sergeant warned everyone to cover their ears. Even from three miles, a thousand tons of high explosives could injure an eardrum.

Then all Hell broke loose.

Three loud gong-like sounds were heard from the front of the Bradley, followed immediately by a string of vile curses, three more tones, and then the LCAC accelerated and made a sharp turn to port, so sharp that the three troops across from Toby would have landed on their neighbors if they had not been strapped in. But it was what he heard on the Air Force frequency that chilled his blood.

"…Echo three, Echo three, three or four contacts, on the deck, bearing zero-two-zero, heading one-eight-zero, speed one-zero-eight-zero…"

"…roger Big Bro…where the hell are all these planes coming from?..."

"…unknown, Echo three…you need to…"

"…burners, I am, shut up, Big Bro…ETA twenty-two seconds…"

Toby, like the others in the APC, was transfixed by the brief chatter, but he was the only one, other than the Sergeant, who noticed the AWACS controller say, "…won't make it…" through the growing static. The recently calmed PFC vomited again, but no one cursed him this time.

Only two thoughts entered Tobias Walsh's minds over the next thirty seconds.

The first was making love to his new wife three months earlier.

The second was the briefing from the LCAC commanding officer earlier in the day, specifically when one of the Hummer drivers asked about the conditions under which they would turn back and abort the landing. The reply had been etched into his brain and now seemed intent on bursting forth in a scream of terror.

"Corporal, only Jesus himself or _a NUKE_ will turn us back."

Toby was pretty certain it wasn't Jesus that had caused the reversal of course. Again, he caught the Sergeant's eyes, but there was nothing reassuring in them this time: He had heard the same briefing. They shrugged at each other; both wondering if giving the troops a warning would do more harm than good, and both chose to do nothing, though Toby covered his eyes.

The Air Force chatter on the intercom became frantic, unintelligible.

The Bradley's gunner could be heard cursing his jammed-open viewing port, and praying.

The engines on the LCAC screamed at full-throttle.

A Stinger surface-to-air missile _whooshed_ away from one of the Hummers.

Although his hands were pressed tightly over his eyes, Tobias Walsh flinched when a painfully bright white light appeared and seemed to turn his hands and eyelids translucent for a fraction of a second; the bones and veins visible, as if he had suddenly gained the power of X-Ray vision.

He knew otherwise.

Revision 1.1, April, 2008


	47. Part 5: The Casualties

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 47 – The Casualties**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

"About a thousand, Madam President. And of those, in the neighborhood of ten percent are permanent."

"How many _dead_, General?" the President asked quietly. She tried to sound strong – decisive – in command, but the question was little more than a whisper.

"Yes, Ma'am, we estimate, _ahem_, thirty thousand. But those are very prelim. . ."

"_Thirty thousand! Jesus Christ, General, who screwed up this time?_" the First Gentleman exploded: He gave his wife a genuinely sympathetic look. Normally ignored by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the President's husband, the First Gentleman – though more often referred to as the _First SNAFU_ and other less respectful nicknames within the Pentagon – could not be snubbed so blatantly in the Oval Office. But the President over-road her husband, much to the delight of the Chairman and his aides, and continued her line of questioning.

"Thirty thousand? How many are ours?"

"Less than a hundred, Ma'am, and most of those were from the air crews too close to escape the blast, some Navy demolition teams, and a handful of Rangers. Only a few in the landing force are reported KIA, er, that's Killed in. . ."

"I know what it means, General. Don't patronize me."

The General nodded respectfully, but curtly addressed his current and previous Heads of State: "Madam President, Mr. President, this was _their own bomb_ killing _their own people_. No one on _our_ side 'screwed up.' We knew they had two devices. If yesterday's bomb was the one that went off here three years ago. . .well, none of us would be around right now. It was pure luck that we got the fizzle and their own city had the working nuke."

"But how did they get _past_ our defenses? I thought we had _complete air superiority_," the former President persisted.

"We do, and we did, sir!" the General said defensively. "But just because you don't see any roaches in your house doesn't mean they can't sneak out at night. They were flying very low and very fast. By the time the AWACS detected them it was too late. And it is extremely likely the bomb was manually detonated when the pilot saw he wasn't going to reach the fleet. The way those people think, it was a win-win scenario for them. If they hit the fleet, they kill lots of The Great Satan's followers. And if they kill some of their own civilians, they blame it on us. The Arab world has a long and nearly perfect track-record for believing that sort of garbage."

The former President looked angry, but didn't say anything. Nearly losing his temper, the four-star general presented the President with yet another hotly debated theory.

"There's one other thing, Ma'am. A number of us don't believe they were even trying to hit the fleet. Please, Madam President, let me finish," the General begged, seeing her start to protest. "Consider this: That bomb could have been easily planted in the path of the Seventh Corps as it approached Tehran, and gutted it. A hundred thousand of our men and women might have died, but instead they went for a psychological target. They sacrificed a few tens of thousands of their own Allah-fearing people just to bring world pressure – Arab world pressure – down on us."

Rising from behind the massive desk, the first female President of the United States regarded the General for a minute; she had to admire him in spite of their differences. Then she expressed her thanks for the preliminary briefing and dismissed him. They would see each other again in an hour in the situation room far below street level. The President hated the place, but nuclear wars tend to make people do uncharacteristic things.

The President's personal secretary gave the Oval Office door a perfunctory rap and entered with the administration's Press Secretary, a middle-aged woman well respected for her former job in the television news business. But today she could not hide the emotions she felt upon hearing _the news_ only hours earlier.

"Barbara, thank you for coming in this early." The President held out her hand. "Have you been briefed?"

"Yes, Madam President. . .not that I can believe it."

The President nodded and spoke absently: "John Denver once said, 'A single nuclear bomb can ruin your whole day.' Thank God they only had one left."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is the Press Corps screaming yet?"

"_That_ would be an understatement, Madam President."

"Alright. I need you to stall for a few hours while we get more facts. Deny we had anything to do with the bomb, it's the truth so maybe they will accept it this time, and tell them I will be addressing the nation at nine tonight. If you need to confirm any facts, speak to one of the JCS's aides, you know where to find them. But whatever you do, don't confirm that civilian death estimate."

"Yes, Ma'am." The Press Secretary started to leave but then paused. "Madam President, good luck."

"Yeah, thanks."

As soon as the President sat down, her secretary announced another visitor, the Director of Homeland Security. He looked grim entering the Oval Office. The brief exchange that followed left the President and her husband even more depressed. When the Director exited, the President instructed her secretary to hold off visitors for five minutes. Then she sat across from her husband, sinking into the ornate Louis XIV couch and hiding her face behind a cushion.

"This is a _nightmare_. What am I going to do?" she groaned, uncommonly honest in her anxiety.

"Look on the bright side, dear," the _former_ President jested, "You just won re-election, so you don't have to worry about job security, _heh-heh-heh_."

The attempt at humor fell flat and the former President's _wife_ let her husband know it: "Right, but they could _Impeach_ me for _screwing-up_. They might even be justified! Wouldn't that be ironical?"

The First Gentleman grimaced and attempted no more jocularity.

Four days after having been informed of the Iranian nuclear attack on the U.S. led invasion of Bandar Abbas, the country was still reeling from shock. That, and the military's refusal to reveal many details of what had happened, ignited wild speculation, sent the country's moral plummeting, and added fuel to the fires of anti-war protesters around the world, as well as a whole dollar to the cost of gasoline, making ten-dollars-a-gallon very close to reality. Repeated demands for information by the press, Liberal and Conservative alike, were simply being ignored by the White House. Their excuse, that the administration had to let the military investigate the event, was wearing thin. Very thin.

Casualty figures for U.S. and Allied troops had been provided, in part, but the combination of a thermonuclear bomb and only five-score deaths didn't jive. The only other information being circulated came from unreliable Middle East sources talking about tens of thousands of deaths, caused, of course, by the U.S., and domestic news service reports detailing the number of aircraft that didn't return from their mission that day: eight B-52 bombers plus a couple dozen fighters, and their crews. The only good news, if one could call it that, was that the multi-billion dollar B-1s and B-2s all returned home safely.

In Lark Creek, and on the Walsh farm further south in Shawsville, the effect was far more personal. And far more confusing.

* * *

A stressed-out, panicked, depressed, and anxious Ellie Aarons Walsh returned home after her final exam on Friday the fourteenth of December. Her friend Amy dropped her off and helped bring her things in before heading home. Ellie had heard nothing from or about Toby, and his parents were also in the dark. Becoming frantic, every effort to pry information from the military was rebuffed, kindly but obstinately.

Brenda, Jesse, May, and Joyce Ann were at school, and her father at work, so only Mary Aarons and Brian were at the house when Ellie arrived home in the early afternoon. After thanking Amy for the ride, she joined her mother on the sofa where she was trying to nurse Brian to sleep.

"I'm sure I flunked every exam, Mom," was all she said before starting to break down.

"Nonsense, you're just feeling stressed," her mother said, then trying to change the subject: "Tell me about college life and living away from home. Was it all you expected?"

Collecting herself, Ellie sat back, hugging a pillow to her chest. "It was wonderful and horrible. Five days a week the students are pretty much normal, but between noon Friday and noon Sunday, the campus becomes one huge party. Amy says," she started laughing ruefully, "that only three things were certain on weekends: Drunken students everywhere, drunken students puking everywhere, and finding a couple dozen of them semi-comatose in various stages of undress, or their clothes removed and put back on inside-out or reversed."

Mary couldn't help but laugh at the last one.

"Yeah, it's really funny when there's a big-busted girl staggering around the dorm and her bra is on backwards."

"I take it this ritual is not one you've taken part in?"

"Drinking or having my clothes reversed? No, don't worry, neither. You wouldn't even know me, Mom. I'm so good now I'm boring."

When her son fell asleep shortly thereafter, Mary laid him in the playpen and went back to her daughter. Over the past two years, a gulf had grown between them and both found it difficult to give or accept comfort as they had in the past. Also, Jesse had become Ellie's confidant and the primary source of succor, though facing something so monumentally life altering the eldest Aarons' child found she needed much more than her fourteen-year-old brother, and Mary Aarons had the wisdom to understand this need. She also strongly suspected there was more to Ellie and Toby's relationship, and its depth was being kept from her and Jack; it was a complication that only intensified the situation.

Brian slept for an hour, and Ellie, exhausted by the events of the past few days, soon conked-out on the couch with her mother, waking only when May and Joyce Ann came in from school. Jesse and Leslie were close behind. Brenda and Jack would not be home until dinner.

* * *

Earlier that Friday, on the way to Health, Leslie told Jesse she'd heard that a Lark Creek High School graduate named Avery had been killed in Iran. Knowing Janice had an older brother, she asked Jesse if he had heard anything but he only mumbled something that sounded like regrets, unable to work up the energy to handle two tragedies at once. Entering the classroom, the two found out they were the first to present that day. Jesse stood in front of his class speaking dully about the results of his and Leslie's project; even _with_ his best friend at his side, speaking was difficult. The Christmas holidays would start in a week, but that offered no consolation, either. But they plodded through stoically, and then sat soberly oblivious while Mrs. Everest scratched out marks on their rubric. Jesse didn't even look at the grade when it was handed to him after class; he stuffed it into Leslie's backpack and walked into the boy's bathroom. Tom, Mikey, and Billy followed, but exited a minute later.

Tom went over to Leslie while the others stood looking self-consciously around the hallway. "Does he _always_ puke when he's upset?"

Leslie nodded and sighed. "Was there anyone else in there?" Tom said no and she handed him her backpack and went in.

"Jess? Where are you?" she said in a calm voice. Walking around a corner, she found him rinsing his mouth out at a sink.

Jesse looked up. "I don't s'pose you came in here to kiss me," he mumbled acerbically. Walking to the window, he cracked it open to get some fresh air. Leslie couldn't blame him, the over-heated room reeked of urine and wet, musty tiles. She wondered if that was the real reason he had vomited.

"Jess, let's go to the clinic, you can lay down a while. . ."

"_Yeah_, that should make Ell feel better," he snapped, then apologized. "I'm sorry, Les, I feel so helpless."

Tom Jacobs' head appeared around the corner. "Jess, Les, c'mon, class starts in a minute."

Leslie told him to go ahead and that she was taking Jesse to the clinic. Shrugging, their friend left reluctantly as Leslie started pulling Jesse out of the lavatory; she was beginning to feel ill herself from the stench.

Jesse rejoined his classes after a one-period break. The clinic nurse knew of Jesse's family's situation and allowed Leslie to remain with him, but he spent most of the time silent and thoughtful.

Bill Burke picked the two teens up after school, but there was little desire for conversation from any of the three, and besides, no one knew much more than had been announced the day before. There had been some news reports that families of victims were being notified, but no names were being officially released, yet. Leslie knew Ellie would be home when they arrived and offered to skip her usual Friday dinner with the Aarons family, but Jesse insisted she _keep her date_. She eventually gave in.

As Bill approached the front of the house, his wife was just being let in, and behind them he saw what appeared to be an official vehicle of some sort heading their way. Feeling even more awkward, Bill hurried the kids inside and tried to tell Judy what he saw so they could leave the family some privacy, but it was too late. When the doorbell rang a half-minute later, Mary Aarons was already clinging to Judy with one hand and Ellie was holding on to her mother's other. Jesse answered the door, his hand shaking a little, his voice even more.

Two soldiers, the lieutenant, a short, slightly plump woman who appeared to be in her thirties, and a tall, erect Sergeant wearing a Chaplain's Aide patch, introduced themselves and asked to speak with _Mrs. Eleanor A. Walsh_. It never occurred to Jesse that a man asking for his sister would cause such a commotion.

"It's me. . .that's me, I mean. I'm, uh, Mrs. Walsh," she said to the two soldiers now standing in the hallway. Then looking to her mother said, "Toby and I are married."

"Oh," Mary Aarons replied, not completely taken by surprise. She turned around and saw Jesse and Leslie busily examining their fingernails, but any reproach would have to wait as the taller of the two soldiers, the one with a Chaplain's Aide patch, spoke.

"Mrs. Walsh, is there a place we can speak, in private?"

As Ellie led the two into the family room, Bill Burke again tried to exit, but Mary insisted they stay. Judy was inclined to agree seeing her friend's distress, and surprise. Both mothers' eyes briefly focused once again on Jesse and Leslie, and then the two families walked to the kitchen to prepare for the news. They did not have long to wait. Ellie called her mother into the room in a steady, though not particularly cheerful voice, two minutes later. The remaining Aarons and Burkes stayed behind.

"Toby's missing in action," Ellie told her mother immediately. "And th-that could mean about anything."

"Yes, ma'am," the lieutenant confirmed. "Things are pretty chaotic, as you might imagine. Once we get more troops ashore, we'll be able to perform a more thorough search. Corporal Walsh's LCAC, that's the ship he was on, landed about an hour after the bomb. The initial reports show that the troops were unloaded and the ship returned to the fleet. That's the extent of our knowledge at this time."

"_Wait a minute!_" Bill Burke exclaimed from the kitchen. The four in the family room turned to see their neighbor join them, and the others move into the doorway. "If Toby landed then he wasn't killed by the bomb. . .that's good. . .right?"

"Yes sir, all the soldiers from his ship were reported to have landed successfully. There were some injuries, but we don't have details, yet."

Ellie seemed to collapse into her mother's arms at this news, but there was more.

"Mrs. Walsh, almost all Allied soldiers killed were from the air crews. But. . .almost a thousand suffered secondary injuries from the bomb."

"What's that? 'Secondary injuries'?" asked Mary, confused.

"Some burns. . .and about nine hundred cases of partial or complete blindness, if the person was looking at the flash. The attack happened so fast few were able to prepare their eyes, and the landing craft were only three or four miles offshore. Initial reports claimed about a hundred with permanent damage," the first soldier added hopefully, trying to sound as positive as possible without giving false hope.

Over the next quarter hour, the two soldiers answered a number of additional questions and gave Ellie a pile of folders and envelopes with standard U.S. Army information about dealing with these types of situations. She set the stack on the table, ignoring them for now. "Are you going to see Toby's family now?" Ellie asked. "I want to go, too. They probably shouldn't hear about us from you two." Mary stated she would go also and Judy said she could drive; both offers were immediately accepted and ten minutes later the two cars and five adults were headed south on I-81. Jesse and Leslie, trying to avoid Mr. Burke's attention, busied themselves for the next few hours with entertaining the four younger children.

Bill tried to contact Jack but was informed he was already on his way home; he arrived just as a Chinese restaurant delivery boy brought in two large bags of food. Over dinner, which Jack hardly touched, Bill filled his friend in on the details he had missed. For someone who was naturally quiet, Jack Aarons had become uncommonly still. His only comments were to thank Bill and direct Jesse to clean up. Then he went up the stairs.

Brenda returned home much later than expected that evening, and at about the same time Judy brought Mary and Ellie back. The two eldest girls immediately disappeared upstairs, as did Mary when she learned her husband had exiled himself a couple hours earlier. With Jimmy, Brian, and Joyce Ann asleep, Leslie, Jesse, and May had snuggled together on the couch talking quietly. Even the TV was off, a rarity in that room.

It was two more weeks before Toby's wife or parents heard any more about him, the news arriving via the same two soldiers three days after Christmas. The situation at the Aarons' house was calmer this time; in fact, the kids had been sent to Burke's house, much to Brenda and Jesse's annoyance. And for this meeting, Toby's mother and father traveled up to Lark Creek to meet their new daughter-in-law's family, though his father had known Jack Aarons for some time.

Judy received a call about a half-hour after the visit started. Mary told her that Toby was alive, but injured, and she asked that her children be sent home to meet their new relatives. Leslie griped about not being allowed to accompany Jesse, but he promised to call as soon as things settled down.

When the Aarons children were all assembled and introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Walsh, Ellie bravely stood and retold her brothers and sisters about her husband. The two soldiers stood aside, respectfully, ready to answer any questions.

"Toby. . .my husband," Ellie smiled sheepishly, "was first hurt when the b-bomb went off. He was burned on his hands and face and wasn't able to see for about three hours out of one eye. The other eye might be p-permanently damaged b-but we don't know, yet. The Army report says he remained on the beach with other wounded, upwind from the fallout, so he received little radiation. . .thank God. When the wounded were evacuated, he slipped away and rejoined his unit, even though he couldn't see in one eye.

"His CO. . .uh, that's like his boss. . .he wrote," she held up an official looking paper, "'Corporal Tobias Walsh distinguished himself by extraordinary heroism and dedication in returning to the battle in spite of crippling injuries. He displayed uncommon prudence and judgment when supporting his fellow troops in ways that provided his unit maximum assistance at critical moments, while in great person distress, and without care or concern for his own safety.'

"The other papers list out what it was he did and stuff like that. He was also injured again, in the leg and arm, while trying to help a wounded soldier. Captain, uh. . .Michaels, the guy who wrote this, said the injuries were not life-threatening, but he's been m-moved to Germany for more treatment and then will be flown to Washington."

Sighing heavily, Ellie sat with her new Mother-in-Law as the two Army counselors gave her parents some additional information.

"Mrs. Walsh will be transported to Germany, if she chooses, to be reunited with her husband in two days. We have to hustle to get her a visa since she doesn't have a passport, but that won't be a problem," she assured them, smiling. Then the lieutenant went to speak with Ellie's and Toby's parents while the Chaplain's Aide chatted with the rest of the Aarons and Burke families.

In spite of the uncertainty of Toby's long-term recovery, it was clear that the news was positive and promising. Ellie looked ten years older, but the adults knew that would pass. The more immediate, but still un-addressable issue was what the new husband and wife would do following Toby's return: It was probable, though not certain, that his military career was over. He and Ellie also had to start looking for a place to live while he went through rehab, and that was going to be in the area of Bethesda, Maryland, for at least the next few weeks.

While these discussions took place between the concerned parties, the Burkes returned home with Jesse, May, and Joyce Ann. Brenda was awkwardly trying to flirt with the Chaplain's Aide while watching Brian and Jimmy play with some of their new Christmas toys and ignore her parent's looks of displeasure that another daughter found a man in uniform attractive.

When school resumed in early January, the Aarons household was far more settled than at the end of December. Ellie and her mother-in-law were in Germany while Toby was being patched-up and prepared for return to the States. Jack and Mary Aarons spoke with their daughter daily, and were especially proud to relate the results of her first semester at Radford: She had performed far better than she had feared, and came away with a GPA of 3.2. But this news also saddened everyone, for Ellie had to withdraw from the spring semester, losing a deposit on her dorm room. Her plans to finish college were now on hold, indefinitely. But she did have the college money she'd saved to help her and Toby start their life together. It was a small but important consolation.

The only source of real discord in the Aarons family was Brenda. Going against her parents' wishes, she had accepted an offer for a date from the Chaplain's Aide, Sergeant Anton Williams, the morning after his last visit. This led to a few days of tension, until Williams visited Jack and Mary and spoke about his Army work. He had been in the service since finishing high school, was taking college courses through VPI in his spare time, and was a devout Catholic. Jesse was certain this was the piece of information which finally made him acceptable to his parents.

* * *

Mel's Diner just north of Lark Creek had become a favorite of Bill Burke and Jack Aarons. It was small, comfortable, had hideously unhealthy (but tasty) food, and was seldom busy. The men could enjoy a beer and talk freely without interruption. And they valued their privacy when they met and when there were important things to discuss. Life-altering decisions, even. Today's meeting was about more practical concerns.

"Here you are, Jack," Bill said, sliding a very thick folder containing his and Judy's will across the table to his friend and neighbor. It was a half-ream of legal documents. "We can't think of anyone else we'd trust as much as you and Mary, should something happen to Jude and me." Jack Aarons handed a significantly smaller one to Bill.

"Thanks, Bill, Mary and I honored. And we feel the same about you and Judy also."

Then Bill handed over a second, smaller package. Jack was not so delighted to receive this one. "Here's your copy of the deed on the land. We can work out the other details this spring."

"You have a lot of guts, Bill, I'm not certain this will work but I'll give it a try."

"The kids will hate it, that's for sure; but what the heck, eh? Let me know what you need by way of equipment, too."

Screwing up his face uneasily, Jack Aarons moved on to the next subject. "Now about the trip this spring. That's an awful lot of money; let's work out some sort of payment plan. . . What's so damn funny, Burke?"

Bill knew his neighbor was proud and would to be difficult about repaying the money, but he had not shared with Jack Aarons the true cost of the trip. Yet.

"My friend, you're about to spend in week with four very active, very energetic teens who have never done anything like this before." Then Bill Burke's smile faded a little. "Don't think you're being treated to anything. Taking your boy and my girl alone would be enough. . .just believe me, Jack. If you return and still feel you owe us something we can talk about it then."

Jack grunted skeptically and nodded. "I'll see. We still have to work out Ellie watching the kids."

"Yes, that has thrown a monkey wrench into things, but Jude and Mary will get it worked out, I'm certain."

An hour later, Jack was reading through the Burke's will, making some notes about the family's assets. He also discovered for the first time his neighbor's net worth. Exhaling softly, he felt less pressure to repay the man, seeing how so many thousands of dollars could seem trivial to him. As he continued reviewing the documents, he absentmindedly whistled away at the theme song of _The Beverly Hillbillies_.

* * *

In mid-January, Jesse and Leslie found themselves negotiating a series of truces and. . . _rearrangements_. . .between the Silliard twins, Mikey Sellers, and Tom Jacobs.

Carol Silliard had approached Leslie the first day back from the Christmas holidays with the news that she and Mikey had broken up. Leslie knew better than to get involved in squabbles between friends, she had expended much effort over the past six months trying to keep the peace between Tom and Lisa. And while this had been a largely successful effort, it had taken a toll on her friendship with both. The prospect of repeating this with Carol and Mikey was not at all appealing, so she convinced Jesse to work with them while her own efforts with Tom and Lisa continued.

Involving Jesse in this project, Leslie soon realized, was a disaster. Although he was a thoughtful and loving friend to her, he tended to slip back into a stereotypical male problem-solving role with others. This trait rapidly unhinged all her work in one respect, but ended up solving the problem in the long run – though Leslie, when asked, insisted it was more by accident than design.

The problem began when Jesse went immediately to Mikey, not Tom, as Leslie asked.

What Jesse knew about Tom Jacobs, and his proclivities with regards to girls, was not extensive, but it was accurate. The adolescent was a year older than he, turning sixteen in April. (When he and Leslie asked Tom and Grace why they were a year behind virtually all children their age in school, they learned that the sibling's time in Senegal many years before had caused both to lose an entire year of their education. No one had told their parents that the schools in the former French colony taught exclusively in that language.) So Jesse understood that Tom was more physically mature and feeling more of the typical male teen yearnings, a fact that seemed to explain, in part, his reputation of being a little _perverted_, or as Tom himself would proudly say, _oversexed_. In reality, aside from his dalliance with Terri and Maddie Keane, and an ostensibly normal fixation with female mammary glands, he was within the bell-curve of normal. But just barely. And Jesse also knew that Tom was interested in Carol Silliard as much as her twin sister.

"I don't like sloppy seconds, Jess," Tom said jokingly when he heard his friend's proposal, and received a typically conservative, disgusted Jesse Aarons scowl in return.

"Don't be a jerk, Tom; just ask her. Besides, you're always saying you want to know how much the twins have in common, now's your chance to find out."

"Oh yeah? Then Mikey'll hate me."

"No he won't, I bet he asks Lisa out before you do. Look, here he comes. Talk to him!"

Tom knew full well that Mikey was just as curious about Lisa as he was about Carol, so it was only a matter of getting up the nerve to make the suggestion. He thought about it while their friend put ketchup and mustard on his hamburger.

_I'm leaving in five months anyway. . .what the hell?_

"Hey, Mikey, uh, wha'd'you think about. . ."

Jesse continued to eat his lunch, pretending not to be listening in on the conversation. All in all, Jesse thought, it went as well as could be expected. After school, he and Leslie met and stood inconspicuously aside while Tom and Mikey approached Lisa and Carol. But Leslie had no idea what was happening and she stood in shock when Lisa went off with Mikey and Carol with Tom. Everyone was smiling, she noted, including her boyfriend.

"Jess! Did you have something to do with that?" she asked, and in a not altogether happy tone.

"Um, yeah. . .why? Everyone's happy, what's the big deal?" he asked cautiously.

Leslie shook her head and pointed back towards the fields, and Jesse felt sick. Makayla was walking their way.

"I'd finally talked Kayla into asking Mikey to the dance, and here she comes. Thanks to your interference she still won't have a date." And growling, Leslie stalked off to meet her friend and try to explain what happened. But Jesse followed her and apologized.

"Look, ask her to go with us, Les."

"Oh really? What makes you think _I'm_ going to ask _you_?" she said hotly. Leslie again turned and walked off. Jesse stood feeling stupid and guilty, and also realizing he had assumed, for a number of months, that Leslie _would ask_ him to the dance. As he watched her explaining the complication to Makayla, Mrs. Burke's words from many years ago repeated in his head: "Just don't take her for granted, Jess."

_Yeah. . .I know. . .I know. . ._

But Leslie had more on her mind than staying angry with her boyfriend as the day of the dance approached. And Makayla had, in any event, defused the tension between her two friends by asking a boy she knew from middle school to go with her. Jesse felt like he had dodged a bullet and again apologized to Leslie when informed of the news, but she acted as if nothing had happened. The end-of-the-semester tests were weighing on her, and taking three honors courses required more of her attention than petty squabbles. But there was something else, too, that was bothering her: Janice Avery. Bobby Avery, her older brother, had been killed in Iran.

The one-time tormentor, now friend, had been absent from school almost half of the month of January. And when Leslie did finally see her, she looked tired and pale. Since their class and lunch schedules precluded meeting during the day, she tried calling the eleventh-grader in the evenings to see how she was holding up, but only got the answering machine. When Janice did not return the calls, Leslie gave up. On Friday, January 18, however, Leslie finally had a chance to speak with Janice before school when they ran into each other at the student drop-off.

The conversation was uncharacteristically warm for Janice and she showed few signs of mourning. She apologized for not returning Leslie's calls and kidded with her about elementary school and favorite types of gum. When they were about to enter the building, the older girl stopped, removed a colorful stocking hat she'd had for years, and put it on Leslie's head.

"Merry Christmas, _punk_," she said cheerfully, using the nickname Leslie had once conferred upon her, and giving the ninth-grader a quick hug. Leslie barely had time to utter a surprised _thank you,_ and Janice was gone.

The entire encounter had been odd, to say the least, but Leslie was relieved to see Janice looking her old self again: noisy, rude, and bossy, but with a carefully buried streak of affection and generosity.

That afternoon, while Leslie and Jesse were waiting for their ride home, they saw Janice at the crosswalk on Main Street waiting with a couple dozen other students for the traffic to pass before crossing. Jesse said something as Leslie made to wave, but it was drowned out by the horn of a bus: He and Leslie saw Janice Avery take two steps forward and then go flying through the air. The sickening crunch of the collision was followed shortly by a horrible thud as their friend landed lifelessly on the ground, twenty feet from where she had stepped in front of the bus.

In the pandemonium that followed, Leslie herself was nearly run over when she stepped into the path of a car whose driver was watching the accident and not the road. Jesse was able to pull her out of the way in time. They continued running to the scene of the accident, stopping at the spot their friend had stood just seconds before. The bus, now parked a quarter-block up the street, left a trail of skid marks and the area stank of burnt rubber. On the asphalt, right where the bus had claimed its victim, lay two old, beat-up sneakers, their late owner having just been knocked clean out of them. Without realizing it, Leslie put her hand to her head and felt the hat Janice had given her just hours before.

When they joined the crown of people around Janice's body, Leslie felt sick. Her friend lay in the grass, and the only evidence that something was wrong was a small trickle of blood from her left ear.

Lark Creek High School canceled the Sadie Hawkins Dance that Sunday and went on 'suicide watch' the following week, bringing in counselors from neighboring counties. Janice was the second youth from Lark Creek to commit suicide in five months. For those who knew her, especially those who knew of her family life, a profound feeling of guilt crept into their psyche. As the school held large and small gatherings to discuss the event, many came to realize the signs their friend and/or schoolmate had been sending for years, and Leslie was near the top of the list for feeling blameworthy.

"I should have known," she said glumly at lunch Tuesday while her friends sat around picking at their food. "I've known for years and did nothing."

"That's not true, Les," Barbara Keane argued. "You became her friend and that meant something to her."

"Yeah, she was always smiling when she talked to you. You were probably the only person in the school able to do that," Tom added, meaning well. But he was promptly stared down by his new girlfriend and some others. Too late.

"_Exactly!_ I _should_ have seen the signs." Leslie then fell quiet and put her head down on the table.

"Les, you're not a professional psychologist, you're being too hard on yourself."

Jesse put his arm around her shoulder. "Kayla's right, and I knew her longer than you. I feel terrible, but it wasn't your fault or my fault."

"Leslie, it was her _father's fault_. Believe me, I know something about that," Barbara said, emphasizing her point with a friendly poke in Leslie's ribs.

Shrugging, the teen rose and left lunch early for her next class. Jesse stood to follow, but Barbara stopped him for a moment. "She'll be ok, Jess. You'll see."

* * *

The next day, Ellie returned home from her three-week trip to Germany and Washington, D.C., where she had been spending most of her awake hours with Toby and nights in a local family support hotel run by the Army. The surgeries to repair her husband's broken leg and arm went smoothly, far better, in fact, than anticipated. Also, vision in Toby's left eye was completely restored and some progress was seen with the right, but it was clear he would never have full use of it again. The skin graphs for the burns were gruesome and painful to the patient; more than once Ellie had to excuse herself while the old, scabbed and dead skin graphs were scraped off. The doctor overseeing the procedures assured both Toby and Ellie that it would be worth the pain in the long run. Neither felt so certain at the time.

Jesse visited his sister late that evening and found her more physically and emotionally drained than she had appeared upon her first arriving home. They talked for a few minutes, but it was clear she needed rest more than anything and Jesse said goodnight without having spoken of the suicide of his friend. In the morning, he found her up early, a sure sign of change in the woman that only those who knew her could fully appreciate. She said she wanted to talk, and followed Jesse until he reached the bathroom.

"Give me a minute to get in, then, um, come in. . . _No peeking!_" Ellie rolled her eyes as Jesse disappeared into the bath. When the water had been running a minute or so, she came in, sat on the toilet seat, and continued the conversation. This was not uncommon in the Aarons' house. Of course, people didn't just barge in, but before the addition there was but a single full bath for the entire family. Even Jesse and Ellie, the two who received private rooms when the addition was complete, felt that the extra bath was the biggest luxury.

"Jess, have you ever been in a situation where you felt completely out of control?"

"I thought that was the definition of adolescence," he kidded.

"It doesn't stop when you turn twenty, unfortunately," Ellie said dryly. "Or twenty-one. I thought I had the next year planned out, and now I'm out of school, taking care of an injured husband, pretty much homeless, and jobless, and. . .Well, you get the picture."

"You and Toby can always stay here, Ell," Jesse said kindly.

Ellie snorted. "_Thanks_, Dad. . . Toby's parents offered to let me stay with them, and I'm thinking about accepting. They have more room and fewer people to trip over."

There was a long pause, long enough for Ellie to wonder if Jesse had heard her. As she was about to repeat herself, the water shut off and a hand came out from behind the shower curtain.

"Can you give me my towel, please?"

Ellie handed Jesse a small hand towel and laughed.

"Ha-ha. Come on, I'll be late." This time Ellie handed him the correct towel and exited the room. Five minutes later, Jesse was dressed and again speaking with his sister.

"Ell, in Health last month, Mrs. Everest told us that the five most stressful things in a person's life are. . . usually: Changing jobs; birth of a child, death of a loved one, moving, and marriage or divorce. You're going through three of those, so it's no wonder you're feeling messed-up. You'll be ok."

While Jesse brushed his hair and put on a belt, Ellie fidgeted, obviously with yet more to say; her brother's time constraint, however, was a priority. A car horn sent Jesse into a frenzy of motion ending with a quick hug for his sister as he ran off. "We'll talk tonight, Ell."

Sitting on Jesse's unmade bed, Ellie whispered to herself what she wanted to tell her brother:_ Jess, I'm not sure I did the right thing. . .marrying Toby._But the talk with her favorite sibling would have to wait. An hour later, Toby's mother called and invited her down to the family farm outside Shawsville for a few days to prepare for her husband's return. By the time Jesse got home, his sister was gone. . .again.

* * *

_They hardly needed an incentive to keep us apart_, Leslie bemoaned silently as she and Jesse were driven to school. Since _the survey_, and the drama surrounding Ellie, and the war, neither she nor Jesse had had much time or inclination for anything besides a few minutes of affectionate necking, now and then. Even their time together at Christmas was subdued. And what both had done in middle school, and _swore_ they would _not_ do in high school, _had _happened again: They over-committed themselves.

Jesse's responsibilities as the freshmen class president, while very light, had a habit of popping up at the most inopportune times. He was still taking drawing lessons and illustrating the school newspaper, a job he had enjoyed since his middle school days working on _The Courier _with Dave Hrdy. Spring track training would be starting in a couple weeks, and there was the full-time job of avoiding Hoager, Manning, and Fulcher, plus quarterly medical updates with Dr. Carlson. In his sparse spare time he hung around the theater, helped with the stage crew, and watched Leslie practice for the spring musical. This year they were putting on Guys and Dolls and Leslie had won one of the two lead female roles, the part of Miss Adelaide, the nightclub singer. She knew it was more for her voice than overall acting experience, for freshmen almost never earned leading roles, so she felt honored, but Mr. Stamper, the drama department head who had cast her in the role of Louisa Von Trapp two years earlier, was ecstatic to have her back. Leslie wasn't sure if the part was a reward or curse.

At the long weekend near the end of January, Jesse, Leslie, Tom, and Grace got together to spend the night at the Burke's house. The grading period had just finished and the plan was to stay up late Thursday watching a bunch of movies, an activity made possible only by Leslie's parents buying a monitor and videodisc player a couple years earlier. After the first movie, however, the four teens found speculation about the Spring Break surprise far more entertaining. They began to hypothesize wildly about exotic locations, with the far more traveled Jacobs siblings offering a long list of potential destinations.

"As long as it's warmer than here, I'll be happy," Tom declared, and the other agreed.

Leslie pouted. "I guess that puts Antarctica out."

"_WHAT?!_" Grace and Tom cried out together, looking at their hostess, stunned.

"She's had this thing for heading south. I think she's part bird, personally," Jesse explained, smiling at his girlfriend.

That comment caused a brief commotion why Leslie jumped up and tickled him mercilessly.

"What about a beach? I think we're going down to the Caribbean. It's not too hot, yet, it's close, no time-zone change. . ."

"Huh? What do time zones have to do with it?" Jesse interrupted.

"If you travel too far east or west," Grace explained patiently, "you lose a lot of time adjusting to a new zone. I agree with Tommy; I bet it will be St. Thomas, or some place like that. Are both your parents still going, Jess?" she asked worriedly.

The fact was, Ellie's Christmas marriage announcement had thrown the plans for the spring trip into chaos. She was supposed to be home that week to take care of her younger siblings, but that was not possible, now. Judy and Bill were not available and Al Jacobs wasn't thrilled about chaperoning four teens by himself.

"Dunno, but I'm sure they'll work something out. Maybe we can get Mrs. Everest to go."

Tom was the only other one who thought that might be fun. But the tickets had already been purchased in the names of Mary and Jack Aarons, so changing them was probably impossible. Something would have to be worked out.

After chatting a few more minutes, the girls ran upstairs to make popcorn and refill the drinks. Tom lounged on the couch he and Grace had been sitting on and sighed.

"You know, Jess, St. Thomas is known for its beaches. . ._sans vêtements_." He winked suggestively.

It was not difficult for Jesse to make the translation. _Without clothes._ Jesse laughed. "And you think you'll get Les to a nude beach? No way."

"Topless works for me," Tom said seriously, and they both laughed.

"Topless _what?_" Leslie and Grace asked together, appearing at the bottom of the stairs and having heard the tail end of the conversation.

Still laughing, Tom tried to cover their tracks. "I told Jess that in St. Thomas the _men_ are allowed to go topless and he started getting excited. . ."

The girls squealed in exaggerated disgust and Jesse laughed even harder. Then he hit his friend in the face with a pillow.

"No, I'm kidding, you guys. Jess told me he's been straight ever since he met Leslie."

This time all three hit Tom with pillows until he cried uncle.

"I'm sure it wasn't topless _males_ you two were talking about. And _NO_, don't you get any ideas, big brother."

"What's wrong with you two, anyway?" Tom said to the girls, feigning injury. "You're both beautiful."

"_Tom Jacobs!_ I'm your _sister_, and Les is your best friend, or one of them. Go talk to Carol if you need a lesson in female anatomy."

"Nah, she's pretty much the same as Lisa. Old news."

"Oh, _bull_, Tom," Jesse and Leslie said together, then Jesse alone, "I bet you've never even. . .what?"

Tom smiled mischievously as Grace plopped down on the couch and frowned. "I'm not so sure. I remember something going on in our basement the start of last summer."

"Watch it, Gracie. I thought we had an _agreement_ about that. . .didn't we? You don't rat on me and I won't tell anyone what I saw. . ."

Leslie chimed in, trying to defuse a squabble between the siblings. "_No family secrets, you two!"_

Both stopped arguing, but their faces were coloring. Jesse and Leslie traded a quick look: there were at least a couple interesting stories to dig into.

Leslie ran back upstairs to get the popcorn while the others debated which movie to watch next. Grace refused to let them watch _The Reaping_, Tom wanted nothing to do with the last Jackie Roller book-made-into-a-movie, Jesse was pushing for the latest Will Farrell flick, and Leslie, when she returned with P.T. close on her heels, voted for an old _Star Trek movie_. In the end, she brought her laptop down, plugged it into the monitor, and they all watched silly videos from YouTube.

At one point, Bill Burke appeared after hearing hysterical laughter from the basement. He sat and watched a few video clips with the teens before saying goodnight and reporting to his wife that everything was G-rated.

Very early in the morning, with the fireplace well stocked and burning warmly, the four friends lay bundled in their sleeping bags trying to get to sleep. Every few seconds, someone would crack a joke and they would all start giggling. Finally, nearing three o'clock, everyone settled down. Even P.T. had stopped licking Jesse's face and lay at Leslie's feet. A few seconds later, Tom started complaining.

"Les, that damn dog is farting again. . .God, it's _revolting!_ I told you not to feed him popcorn."

"Shut it, Tommy, he's no worse than you," Grace croaked semi-consciously.

Jesse turned over and growled, "Both of you, shut up." Then he rolled back to face Leslie and pointed to himself. "_It was me!_" he whispered.

Leslie wrinkled her nose, smiled, and kissed Jesse goodnight.

_I love you_, he mouthed when they broke apart.

"_Ugh!_ I love you, too. . .most of the time."

Jesse drifted off to sleep soon after, his face just inches from his girlfriend's. Leslie watched his eyes close slowly, like Jimmy's when he was being rocked or nursed to sleep. Tom and Grace were both snoring lightly, and it gave Leslie a twinge of sadness to think that their two best friends would be leaving soon. She hated that. She hated the military for making Mr. Jacobs move. She hated the military for almost killing Toby. She hated the military for killing Bobby Avery and contributing to Janice's suicide. Mr. Keane had been in the military, too. It seemed as if everything was being tainted by the military.

She moved a little closer to Jesse and held his arm, pressing her face to it softly, breathing in his familiar scent. He stirred, and then returned to whatever he was dreaming about. In just a little more than three years he would be of draft age, and the Select Service Act of 2011 allowed very, very few exemptions: neither artists nor college students were on the short list. Leslie buried these thoughts away as best she could, focusing on the first real non-birthday party she would host in sixteen days. She _had_ to do _something_ to put down her winter doldrums, and Barbara Keane's idea of an all-girl fiesta sparked a fire in her.

_If nothing else, Truth or Dare will be a lot more interesting now!_

Revision 1.1, May, 2008


	48. Part 5: The Flop

**A Life Rescued  
****Part 5**  
**Chapter 48 – The Flop**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_WARNING: The first quarter of this chapter contains frank discussions about sexual abuse. There is a less edited version of this chapter in The Brink, mainly due to language._

Leslie Burke woke up Thursday morning feeling as if a part of her had broken away and melted into the ground, lost forever in the porous soil. Moreover, this was not the first time she'd felt it, either. Since Janice Avery's death, she had been fighting the same feeling nearly every morning, and she could not shake it. Jesse said she was experiencing depression and loss from the tragedy, and Leslie reckoned he knew what he was talking about. In spite of the kind words from her friends, however, she still felt as if she had let Janice down. Additionally, the calamity that was now attached to Janice was also part of her and Jesse Aarons, for Janice symbolized one of the key people in their lives, one who had helped bring them together.

Judy had to call up to her daughter twice to come down for breakfast, and her father nearly left to pick up Jesse without her. But she made it in time and sat in the back seat, quietly holding her boyfriend's hand and fighting back tears. Jesse noticed this but didn't know what more to say, they had talked about Janice for days and nothing seemed to make Leslie feel better. He was grateful, however, she would be having Barbara over the next day to plan some sort of girl party.

Barbara Keane had been doing everything _she_ could to help Leslie through the bout of depression her friend had sunk into, for she was well familiar with the experience. And perhaps that experience, more than anything she said, helped her put the tragedy into perspective. There would be good days and bad, Barbara told her, but the good would become more frequent as time passed. In the weeks between Janice's death and _the party_, the pretty blonde and feisty redhead had become as close friends as Leslie and Grace, possibly even more so as they saw each other in school daily. There was always a limit, however, to what Leslie felt they could expect to share with each other: Barbara's past, she believed, would forever be a DO NOT ENTER zone. But as they spent more time together, the barrier was being slowly eroded away.

Leslie relied more and more upon her friend to assist her with the planning of the party, and their plans went through a number of iterations before invitations were sent out. Barbara was for a larger, more inclusive cross-section of their friends; Leslie wanted fewer. And she knew that when a bunch of fourteen and fifteen year old girls gathered together, much of the conversation would be about boys (and their butts), sex, and clothing – in that approximate order. So if there was going to be shared intimacies, Leslie wanted only their most trusted acquaintances. This logic eventually won Barbara's blessing, and besides, the event was taking place at the Burke's house so the Burke _daughter_ was boss. But she still tried.

"Are you sure you want to limit it to just us six?" she asked one final time.

"I can't think of who else we can trust to talk about the subjects bound to come up." This evoked a round of giggles. "Oh. . . .We _could_ ask Maggie."

"Maggie? My _sister_, Maggie?"

"Yeah, she's cool. . . . isn't she?" Leslie asked, wary of Barbara's look of skepticism.

"You could call her cool, I suppose. If you want to _know_ about, er, _things_, she's the expert."

Leslie was taken aback. Maggie Keane had always seemed as straight-laced as her sister Jen. "By 'things' do you mean boys. . . . And. . . . things?"

"Boys, girls, sex, the whole package. I mean, she doesn't have much practical experience, at least I don't think so. . . . it's more book knowledge. But she's always been the go-to girl when one of us had a question we couldn't talk to our mother about." Then her face fell. "Except Terri, you couldn't tell _her_ anything." Barbara sniffed and turned away for a couple seconds.

"Sorry," Leslie said, jumping up and embracing her friend.

"S'ok. We can invite her. But knowing you, she probably won't have a chance to talk with anyone else."

Leslie was more confused than offended by the odd comment and look of amusement on her friend's face. "What do you mean?"

"You have an insatiable curiosity about sex, Leslie Burke. . . ."

"_I do not!_"

Barbara laughed aloud and said, "C'est vrai. _Qui s'excuse, s'accuse!_"

"Hey, I'm taking Spanish, what did you say?"

"It's a French expression: He who excuses himself, accuses himself."

Leslie grimaced. "Does it seem that way to everyone?"

"No, just your closest friends, I think." She paused. "Les. . . . have you and Jess, er, _done it_, yet?"

Opening her mouth to protest such a forward question, Leslie instead told the truth. "No, still a virgin. . . . For now," she finished, arching her eyebrows mischievously. Then she smirked. "And you? _OH CRAP! I'm sorry, Barb!_ _I. . . . I . . . ."_

"It's ok, Les."

It was obvious it was not _ok,_ and Leslie's heart sank. "I can't believe I said that. I am so, _so_ sorry. . . ."

But then, unexpectedly, Barbara began to tell Leslie about her family and sisters' lives over the past few years, and her cheeks rapidly became as red as her hair. At one point, Leslie had to calm her down to be understood. She told her everything: the brainwashing, the 'private' life and secluded houses, the photographic sessions that became touching sessions and so forth.

"My father could be _very_ persuasive without being threatening. At first, he would make like he was explaining human anatomy, pointing to a part of my body and explaining in detail how it worked. He started at the top," Barbara touched her lips, "showing me how to kiss, and then moved down. I remember he spent almost an entire week explaining to me about my boobs, how they worked. He was _so bloody smooth_ about it. If there was anything even remotely sexual about the topic that day, he would have me do the touching, or guide my hand through the action. . . .At first. . . .He got me used to the feelings."

Leslie sat transfixed, in barely hidden disgust, as Barbara told about her father taking pictures.

"'For you,' he would say, for when I was older. And I bought it. . . . I guess. The whole nudism thing was just another way to get us comfortable with being naked, and it kept Jen's suspicions down for a long time." Looking suddenly timid and ill, she grimaced and continued. "It wasn't until he got down there," she pointed to her lap, "that I began to wonder. But whenever I hesitated, he would stop and begin talking about males and how they were different. He used to take off his shirt and have me stand in front of him with mine off so he could point out. . . . Things - you know, physical differences. Eventually it got to a point where we were standing with little or no clothes on. Then the heavy sexual crap started. Sometimes we'd be together for hours, him telling me about what got men aroused. I guess I was about twelve, during our last year in England, when we met Gracie and her family."

"I never imagined, Barb. Your parents were always so proper and kind," was the only remotely logical thing Leslie could think to say when Barbara lapsed into silence.

"Yeah, they were good at fooling people. They were experts, especially my father. Anyway, once we reached the point of touching our. . . . down there, it was only a matter of time before the sex started. But he still kept up this pretense of being a teacher. Looking back now, I can't believe I was so gullible. I think it was partly because he always made a point of making sure I, er, was. . . . you know . . . . satisfied. I don't think I ever left one of our rendezvous not having had an orgasm." Barbara gave a rueful little laugh. "It was like we always finished on a high note. He had me addicted to sex. I – I can't remember a time when I said I didn't want to feel that - that intensity. What's really disgusting is that there are some parts of it I miss."

Before continuing, she sighed, stretched and lay back on Leslie's bed. "It took me months of counseling, since Mum and Dad were arrested, to work through all this. I think I'll feel tainted for the rest of my life."

"So he made you do. . . . everything?" asked Leslie, trying to make her question sound less driven by curiosity than it truly was.

Barbara frowned. "Pretty much, he even tried some gross stuff, until I said it hurt too much and he stopped." Then sitting up, she spoke as if she were trying to justify her father's actions. "See, Les, that was the thing about him. In a way he _was_ genuinely gentle; it made me feel like he really cared for me. I remember one time asking him if all parents did this with their kids. He said they did, but I shouldn't speak about it because there were some who were not as fortunate as I was and it would hurt their feelings. What _bloody crap!_ I can't believe I was so. . . . never mind."

"What about the F.L.E. classes? You must have heard something about sexual abuse, didn't you?"

"We were never allowed into an environment where morality was openly discussed. Remember last year? I spent the period in Activity, not F.L.E. No church, nothing that might tip us off."

"_It wasn't your fault, Barb_," Leslie said emphatically after a few more seconds of uncomfortable silence. She was quite sure this was the first time the girl had shared these secrets with a peer.

"No, it _sure-as-crap_ wasn't. He was a smooth bastard, a _real professional_. I hope he burns in Hell, Mom too. Fortunately he wasn't too smart: I don't know how he could think it all would have stayed a secret forever. Maybe he was going to scamper. After that faked picture of you last year things changed, maybe he . . . . I don't know any more."

"What are you doing now, Barb? I mean, are you still talking to someone?"

"Yes, Maggie and I are both seeing a shrink in Roanoke once a week. He's great and has helped us a lot. Jen and Maddie are seeing someone, too; they have their own head-doctor near them." She stopped and thought of her two sisters, smiling. "Maddie's really looking forward to having Grace and Tom nearby."

"Barb," Leslie said quietly, and after a long pause, curious about one other item. "Do you know why Terri killed herself? Did she leave any note?"

The redhead gave Leslie an annoyed look, but answered anyway. "_Daddy_ got her pregnant, but I guess just about everyone already suspected it."

"Sorry," Leslie said, and meant it. Barbara nodded soberly.

"Our parents will pay," she said grimly. "The UK is trying to extradite them since their _activities_ began there. But the real reason is that they know the D.A. is going to ask for the death penalty for my father, since the grand jury found him responsible for Terri's death, even though it was a suicide. I think it was an emotionally driven decision, and probably won't work, but there's always hope." A gleam of evil flashed over her face; Leslie saw and felt the chill it put into the room. And Barbara saw her shrink back a little. "Don't look at me like that, Leslie Burke. He raped, abused, molested and killed one of my sisters. _SHE WAS THIRTEEN, FOR GOD'S SAKE!_"

Suddenly in tears, Leslie moved over and hugged her guest, and it was accepted, though a bit stiffly. "If there's anything I can do…"

"Just _drop it_, Les, now that you know everything," Barbara snapped abruptly, pulling away. That barrier - the _DO NOT ENTER_ zone – _had_ been entered, and probably too soon.

A short time later, Barbara took out her cell phone, called her sister and asked if she was available the following Friday. While they were speaking, Leslie scurried down to the kitchen for some snacks and a breather from the intense situation. When she returned, her guest was acting putout.

"Maggie said thanks, but she isn't available. She has an engagement. Sorry." Then moving on, Barbara rallied and ran through the list of invitees. "Ok, so far we have: you, Grace Jacobs, Lisa and Carol Silliard and Kayla. . . ." She sat up straight. ". . . . and me, the substitute sex expert." The tease made Leslie feel better and as the plans progressed, the brief awkwardness disappeared. Still, she was concerned about how quickly and easily Barbara could turn one emotion off and another on.

The invitations the two girls put together on Leslie's laptop featured a combination punk and athletic motifs – running, dancing, swimming and soccer – sports they were all involved in. They would be delivered at school Monday, discreetly, of course, for the Friday night event. The only acceptance glitch they expected was the Silliard twins who could not spend the night as they had an out-of-town dance competition to attend early the next morning. Their friends wondered about the girls even more when they had discovered Mikey and Tom were _both_ traveling with them and their parents to the event.

"Those two might be more _expert_ than you," opined Leslie.

"Too true. They have an odd arrangement, those four."

Both girls rolled their eyes and went back to planning.

A couple weeks earlier, when Leslie approached her parents with the request to host a party, Bill and Judy were ecstatic. Their daughter had typically shunned such events, but high school was making her more sociable, they guessed, and every assistance was offered. In the earliest stages of planning for the event, Barbara had suggested that Leslie take up her parent's offer to go all-out, and Leslie immediately agreed. Never one to flaunt her parents wealth, it took a while before she asked for what amounted to an unlimited budget, but again, Bill and Judy happily handed her a credit card and told her to, "Try to keep it under. . . ." The figure was well beyond what even Barbara had imagined extravagant, and she had a very high threshold of what she considered excessive. So with only six girls, the expenses would be a non-issue.

"Let's have a limo pick up everyone, Les. They'll freak!"

Leslie smiled, nodded and made a note.

"Cater the food?"

Another note.

"Can your mother take us to the Party Store?"

"If she can't, there are cabs," Leslie said offhandedly.

"Live band?"

"Don't think that one will fly. Maybe in the summer when we can go outside," Leslie laughed.

"We're partying here more often, girl! Let's see. . . .How about a couple strippers?"

"Male. . . ." The girls giggled. ". . . .Or female?" and then they pretended to gag, but Leslie made no note this time. Seeing this, Barbara suggested they hire one of their fellow students. By the look the redhead gave, it was obvious who she was suggesting.

"Maybe next year. We have to show _some_ restraint!" she lamented.

"What about games? I keep hearing about a wild game of Truth or Dare a few years ago."

"Jeez, yes! That was a surprise party we threw for Jess's twelfth birthday at the Jacobs. It was a little intense three years ago, but might be interesting to play a PG-rated version."

"R-rated would suit you better, I think!"

Leslie stuck her tongue out and then went back to planning games, music, and food. But in the back of her head, she thought it might be an excellent suggestion.

Nearing nine, Judy called to the girls that Jesse was on his way up. Leslie beamed and hid her notebook. After greeting her boyfriend, Barbara watched the two interact. She was spending the night and felt no inclination to make herself scarce. But Jesse was only stopping by to invite Leslie and her family for dinner Sunday and departed after a lengthy kiss. When he was gone, Leslie flopped down onto the bed dramatically and sighed.

"You got it _bad_, girl!" Barbara laughed. "You ought to videotape yourself when he comes in the room. I don't think you realize how you change."

But Barbara's words went unnoticed. For a minute, Leslie lay with her eyes closed and thought about her and Jesse together. It took a while for her heart to calm and remember she had a guest. Sitting up, she saw Barbara regarding her with a mixture of envy and amusement.

"Les, do you keep a calendar of your cycle. . . .When you have your period?"

Nodding, she pointed to her desk where a small pocket calendar lay; her guest walked over and picked it up.

"Let me guess. . . . 'S' is for start and 'E' is for end, right?"

Leslie nodded again and then watched as Barbara picked up a pen and made a mark.

"What did you do?"

Her answer was seeing the calendar fly through the air and land on the bed next to her. Barbara pointed at it and mimed for her to read.

"What's the 'O' for?"

"It should be an 'H' for horny, but an 'O' for ovulate is probably safer for public documents like that. My _wonderful_ _mother_ used to call that time of my cycle the _Horny Hormones_, when we ovulate. You've never heard that?"

"I – I think Mom sorta hinted at it a couple times. She called it the opposite of PMS."

"Yeah, that's it. The hormones that make you ovulate also make you more fertile, and horny, so you're mind and body are most interested in sex when you're most fertile. It's one of those evolutionary things we'll learn about in biology. I bet if you track your feelings for a few months you'll see it happens about the same time each cycle, just like PMS. And based on your blank expression, flushed skin tone, heavy breathing, and the way your hands were all over Jess, I'd say it's a good bet you're _ovulating_ now."

"_Shitake mushrooms!_ Do _guys_ have the same thing?" Leslie asked seriously.

Barbara howled in laughter. "Of course, but theirs starts with puberty and ends with death!"

A floor below, Bill and Judy heard the girls laughing uproariously and figured it had to be due to a conversation about boys.

* * *

The stretch limo that toured around Lark Creek the following Friday drew much attention. Aside from funerals and weddings, which never took place on Friday evenings, the luxury car was seldom seen. But the most surprised were the girls being picked up. The chauffer dutifully stopped at each of the invitee's house and announced that their ride awaited. This extra touch, Leslie was told, only required a modest tip to the driver. As everyone was expecting Leslie's parents' SUV, the astonishment was all the greater. Inside, Leslie and Barbara waited to greet each guest, the redhead videotaping each girl as they walked in astonishment to the car.

When all six girls were inside, Leslie ordered haughtily: "Driver, tour the city"; everyone laughed at the irony, even the chauffeur. The excursion took all of ten minutes, including a slow circumnavigation of the high school. As they proceeded, everyone tried out the television, phones, and even attempted to get into the locked liquor cabinet. Then they headed back to Leslie's house amid laughing, giggling and loud talking.

Judy and Bill formally greeted the limo in front of the house; but that, Leslie assured her guests, was the last they would see of the adults. "Unless they appear to say goodnight." She escorted everyone around the side of the building and to the back door, explaining how she once had to strip naked and clean skunk musk off herself after she and Jesse had been sprayed. The story evoked further laughter and excited chatter about 'stripping' outside – even Grace, normally straight-laced, thought this amusing.

Inside, the guests found the large basement decorated and a variety of modern music playing, a sparkling mirrored globe rotating from the ceiling and tables of drinks, games, and party favors. To the side, the caterer was preparing for dinner. Leslie showed everyone where they could store their overnight things and then took them on a tour of her house, ending in her room. Grace and Barbara had visited before, but the others were surprised by the modesty of their friend's home: It was large, but not ostentatious. A short time later, Judy called up that the caterer was ready and the girls retired to the basement to begin the party.

Dinner was informal and the girls sat around the monitor watching a DVD of 1950 & 1960 television commercials, howling at the archaic, stiff, black and white advertisements. The DVD also contained a selection of favorite TV shows from the period. For the most part, the girls found the material more amusing than boring, something Leslie had been a little concerned about since you never know exactly how a group's collective appreciation of humor will manifest itself.

After dining, the girls moved to the unfinished part of the basement temporarily and changed into their nightclothes while the dinner service was cleared. Lisa and Carol sat glumly, bemoaning the fact that they could not stay the night until Makayla distracted them by asking about Irish dancing and begging them to do a couple steps. In minutes, all the girls were trying, but only Leslie showed any aptitude with a Jig. As they wrapped up the dancing, Barbara and Makayla started to pull out cards and place chairs around the large card table in the next room, but everyone's attention was focused on the sliding glass door that led to the deck. Someone was knocking quietly. Leslie pulled open the curtain and five male faces with wide eyes and big grins peered in at them.

Some of the girls started screaming but Leslie shushed them quickly. Then opening the door, Jesse, Mikey, Tom, Billy, and another ninth grader they knew, Kyle, ran into the house. In the background you could hear the twins exclaiming "Party crashers!" But they didn't sound at all upset.

"Hey!" Jesse greeted Leslie, breathless from the sprint over. "We can't stay long…" Surveying the other girls in their nightclothes, Jesse paused. "Well, maybe we can stay a little while…"

"No way, Jess! If Bill or Judy came down here they'd freak out."

"Listen to your. . . ." Billy started to warn Jesse. Then seeing Makayla in only an old, worn shirt, decided hanging around a few more minutes would be ok, and he sat to watch what would happen.

The girls had gathered on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, partially covered by a couple blankets, and the boys sat on the couch and chairs. Little conversations soon broke out and in minutes, everyone was comfortable again. Mikey and Tom would act out by trying to sneak up next to Lisa and Carol, but one of the other girls would shoo them away.

Upstairs, Bill and Judy had just put Jimmy to bed and were lounging in the living room. It was obvious that Jesse and some other boys had joined the party, but Judy knew they could not stay long. Mary Aarons had promised to keep them segregated after nine, and it was already eight-forty. And by the bursts of laughter, it was pretty obvious nothing inappropriate was happening. Still, Judy looked at Bill.

"Think you should look in on them?"

"No," he replied, smiling. "But since you won't let me finish my book until I do, I'll have a quick peek." Moving his wife's feet from his lap, Bill rose and quietly started walking down the stairs. At the bottom, he slipped around a partition, out of sight, and tried to listen to three conversations going on at once. The topics changed as the kids – the boys in particular – became more rambunctious.

Much of the chatter was typical teenage girl-boy bravado: friendly insults and brash claims. Then a voice, which Bill could only identify as _not_ being Jesse's, rose above the others: "...I'll pull your pubic hair, if you do..." Stunned, Bill didn't hear the reply clearly, but there was no obvious tone of indignation or offense in the response.

_Have things changed _that much_ in twenty years?_ He asked himself.

Repositioning, Bill found a spot where he could see most of the kids without being obviously visible. Jesse and Leslie were next to each other, sitting on the floor, poking each other playfully, but the rest of the kids were sitting apart. Even Tom and Mikey, he noted, had not joined their current girlfriends on the floor.

_Being the hostess has its privileges, I guess._

Returning up the stairs, Bill was far more concerned about what he would say to his wife than what he had heard, but his face gave away the bind he was in.

"Uh-oh! What's going on down there?" asked Judy, frowning.

"Nothing. . . .physical, just an unexpectedly bold comment from one of the boys. . . .No, not Jess."

"What did he say?" Judy persisted, and her husband told her. "Oh. . . ." She looked at the clock. "Jesse has to have his friends home in less than ten minutes, I guess they're all safe."

Surprised, Bill made the mistake of asking whether Judy wanted him to check one more time, just to be sure. She said yes.

The second trip downstairs revealed nothing further, except one of the boys' claim that, "Billy Eccles has a _boner,_" was false. "It's just my belt, see!" he said, laughing. A couple of the girls squealed and a couple sounded disappointed. Bill Burke couldn't tell which group his daughter was in, and returned to the living room telling Judy all was well. A minute later they heard the girls calling out their goodbyes to the party crashers as they left.

"Ready for bed?" Bill asked.

"It's only nine!" Judy turned up the volume of the Baby Minder and went back to editing her book. Bill sat and lay his hand on his wife's abdomen, waiting for the baby to kick.

* * *

"_Jess! _Go now, _please!_ You'll get in trouble," begged Leslie.

"All right. Wanna do something tomorrow?"

"Of course, but I'll have to clean up this mess first. The afternoon's free."

Jesse pursed his lips, and looked into Leslie's eyes. A muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched. "It's a date. . . . But I have to go to church at three. . . . For confession."

"No problem. It will. . . . _Jesse Aarons!_" she whispered, pulling him close. "You went to Confession _last_ week. Have you been a naughty boy?"

Unable to hold back, Jesse snorted out a laugh. "Been thinking about you too much, I guess."

He kissed Leslie and turned to the other boys. "Come on you guys, let's go." And leading his slightly dejected party-crashers away, headed back into the dark.

"Les, what were _they_ doing here?" Makayla asked, mostly in surprise and embarrassment.

Entranced by Jesse's comment, Leslie took a few seconds to answer. "Uh, they were out playing Laser Tag. Forget them; where were _we_?"

Gathering up all the pillows and cushions from the room, they spread blankets and sleeping bags in a front of the hearth, made themselves comfortable, and began chatting. Lisa and Carol, who had to leave in an hour, continued to mope and act dull, but when Barbara noticed this, she elbowed Leslie and made an announcement.

"Ok girls, we have time for a round of Truth or Dare before Lisa and Carol have to go!"

Grace groaned, but the others cheered happily and the twins instantly broke out of their malaise. They were in their element now.

"Rules?" asked Carol.

"_None!_" her sister exclaimed.

Grace piped in quickly: "Nothing gross, you guys." Half the girls laughed, the other half looked disappointed, but Grace persisted. "I mean. . . .no, uh, _lesbian_ stuff."

Barbara cursed and made like she was disappointed, which drew another chorus of ribald laughter.

"Ok, no one has to _do _anything with Grace," Carol conceded, but in a rather disingenuous tone. "Don't worry, we'll keep it R-rated."

Following more cutting-up and laughter, straws were drawn and Lisa was chosen to go first. She looked around at her friends and settled on Makayla.

"Sorry, Kayla, but we know the least about you." Lisa drew a piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it. A couple of the girls saw it was a print out of the survey many of them had received emails about late the previous year. Makayla saw it too, and groaned.

"Don't worry, we're nice to new-comers. Truth or dare, Kayla?"

"Uh, truth, I guess."

"Have you ever gone skinny-dipping?"

"No, never," Makayla answered smugly. Lisa's return gaze said there would be further questions from the survey on the next round.

"My turn!" Carol said happily. "Les, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Has Jess ever touched your…you, I mean, has he ever gotten to third base?"

"Not really. . . . No."

"_Crap_, then there's no hope for any of us if those two haven't _done it_ yet," Carol lamented. The others agreed with exaggerated gloomy expressions.

"Ok, Gracie, your turn."

Still a little irritated at Carol for suggesting the game, Grace chose her.

"Carol, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

The girls howled.

"Ok, I dare you to. . . . show us any part of your body, normally hidden by clothing, that my brother has touched."

The dare was met with a mixture of gasps and giggles, and more than one comment about how Grace had no business limiting the scope of the dares given _her_. But Carol only rolled her eyes and lifted up her top to expose her chest to the others. Another chorus of cheers met the slightly blushing dancer, and she took her time tucking things back into their proper place. Then she smiled at Grace. "Just remember, what goes around..."

Grace laughed and cut her off. "You'll be pretty disappointed if you give me a dare like that." That brought forth more laughter from everyone, even the Silliards.

The game went on until ten, when the twins had to leave, and as the evening progressed turned into all six girls talking about their most awkward moments of adolescence. Leslie won the award for most embarrassed by consensus when she told of how, the previous spring, Jesse had pointed out to her that she had blood all over the back of her shorts, her period having started a day early.

"I'd think that would bother Jess more than you, Les."

"No, he's ok with that stuff. He said living with five females broke him in. But I had to, uh, _improvise_ something for a pad because we were out hiking."

"What did you find out in the middle of nowhere?" Makayla asked, wondering if her host had scraped moss or dry leaves together.

"It wasn't too hard. Whenever we hike, we carry extra stuff. Jess had a clean pair of socks so I borrowed them."

"Go Leslie!" Barbara shouted.

"Go Jess's socks!" Makayla added.

After the twins had left, the other girls went back to talking about being teenage females. They shared a number of personal stories about growing up, particularly ones involving false information they'd been told concerning adolescence. Leslie noticed that Barbara said little, and not knowing what Makayla knew about her situation, did not press her for anything she did not freely volunteer. But that was made moot around eleven when Makayla said she had something to ask. By her hushed tone and red face, it was obvious it was not going to be a question about general knowledge.

"I was wondering, when I was six or seven, before I was adopted by the Flynn's, my foster brother would, uh, touch me. Is that. . . .normal? I mean, do brothers do that to their sisters?"

The other three girls shouted "No" in unison, but the answer only upset Makayla more.

Barbara looked at Leslie and Grace, and then spoke: "Kayla, it's not normal for _any_ family member, and _you_ did _nothing_ wrong. You didn't ask him to do it, did you? I didn't think so. How old was he?"

"About fifteen."

"_Bloody wanker!_" Barbara cried and put an arm around her. Makayla was now familiar with British-speak and just nodded. "You could report him to the police. . . . Why not? You might be doing him a favor!"

"Huh?"

"Just trust me on this one, Kayla; nipping someone like that in the bud could save a lot of other people pain. Look, just think about it. Even if it was an anonymous letter to CPS, er, Child Protective Services, it might scare him enough to help. He must be in his early twenties now. . . .God I _hate_ men sometimes."

Shocked by the intensity of Barbara's conviction, and the lack of surprise on Leslie and Grace's face, Makayla understood why she was so passionate.

"This happened to you too, Barb, didn't it?"

"Yes," she whispered bitterly. "You could say that. But it was my _father_, not my stepbrother or foster-brother. He sexually abused me and three of my sisters."

Grace, well into tears, ventured a question. "Did he do. . . . I mean, more than just . . . . _pictures_?"

"Oh, yes, pretty much everything." She then went on to give Grace and Makayla a much abbreviated and censored version of what had happened leading up to the arrest of her parents and Terri's suicide. Their newest friend sat in silence, stunned; Grace wept. Following a few awkward minutes of quiet, Barbara began to talk again, but about far happier and light subjects.

But the fun of the evening had been seriously squelched and it took until the next morning for the girls to perk up again. Leslie didn't mind, however; it was not exactly the type of party she had planned, and most would consider it a flop, but it had obviously done Barbara and Makayla a lot of good, talking about their troubles. The two spent much of the morning talking alone, until they were picked-up mid-morning by the limo. Their goodbyes and hugs gave their host hope that both, Barbara particularly, were further along on the road to healing.

Grace hung around until noon, helping Leslie clean-up the basement. Unlike the other two, she remained sullen and quiet, but the only explanation she would give Leslie was that she was dreading leaving Lark Creek in three months.

"But look what we're going to do together before then, Gracie! In two weeks we're off on our mystery trip; Jess and I promise to take you and Tom camping and hiking on the Boone property; the musical is in six weeks and Judy and Bill offered to host the cast party - and I expect you to be there. . . ." These encouragements appeared to raise Grace's spirits and by the time her father picked her up, she was her old self again and gave Leslie a long, warm embrace goodbye.

"Growing up kinda sucks sometimes, you know, Les?"

"It has lots of advantages, too, Gracie," Leslie said, thinking about seeing Jesse soon.

* * *

Following lunch, Jesse and Leslie sat in his family room and chatted with May until she left with her mother to go to a meeting with her spring soccer team. Jesse heard about the heavy conversations at the party the night before and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend in mock comfort, then pouted when she didn't show any appreciation.

"Before she left this morning, Gracie said life sucks sometimes."

"Maybe, I guess. Everyone has bad times, Les. We've had a great few years together but there were times things sucked, too."

Leslie snuggled back under Jesse's arm and sighed. "Yeah, we've both done some stupid things, haven't we?"

"You more than me, Les," kidded Jesse, receiving an elbow in the ribs in return. But he turned and put his other arm around Leslie and kissed her – and she responded, thinking of the conversation she'd had with Barbara eight days earlier.

_She was right! There are times when I enjoy kissing Jess, and then there are times when I can't get enough. . . ._

Breaking away from the kiss, Jesse asked, "What're you thinking?"

"Oh, uh, just about us. . . . You and me."

Jesse laughed. "'Us' usually _is_ you and me. What about 'us'?"

She kissed him. "I don't know, maybe. . . . Jess, last week at play practice, Mr. Stamper gave me information about an acting class in Roanoke run by some Hollywood people. Do you think he's suggesting I'm not good enough for this part?"

"No, he probably wants you to. . . . I don't know, maybe get exposed to other teachers. When is it?"

"Right after school gets out. It's two whole weeks. I don't suppose you'd like to go, too?"

Grimacing, Jesse shook his head. "No way! You be the actor, I'll just watch from the audience and bring you flowers."

"Ok," Leslie smiled, giving Jesse a quick peck on the cheek. "I look forward to it."

Settling back down, half reclined on the couch, Jesse told Leslie that Ellie and Toby were coming up for dinner the next day.

"He's still in a couple casts, but Ell says he's getting better every day."

"I'm so happy. Do you miss your sister?" she asked, knowing full well he did, and very much.

"Um-hmm. Brenda's opened up some, but it's not the same."

"What's going on with her and the Army guy? Are they going out?"

Jesse took a minute to answer, his right hand playing absently with a button on Leslie's blouse.

"Yeah, I guess so. She sees him after school almost every day, and he's over here a lot. Mom and Dad still aren't real happy about her seeing a soldier, though."

"I can understand that. Is he coming to dinner tomorrow?"

"Yep, bringing a couple pies, too."

"Mmmm. . . . Jess, what are you doing with your hand?" One of his fingers had abandoned the button and was gently poking Leslie's navel, and softly touching the skin around it, though he didn't realize the effect it was having. Leslie didn't mind, but they weren't in a location that would be considered safe for exploring. It took her friend a few seconds to answer.

"I like the feel of your skin. You're so soft," he said quietly, almost in awe.

"Oh. You know, Jess, some places are softer than others. Should we . . . . go some place more private?" she added breathlessly, boldly, all the while knowing exactly how Jesse would respond.

His finger withdrew. "D-Dad's home and. . . ." He stopped and kissed her deeply, then moved apart a little. "This is one of those times when it wouldn't be a good idea to be alone."

Leslie looked at him and nodded; still having a promise to keep, at least until April 11. She decided to tease her boyfriend instead. "And I don't want you to have to go off to Confession _every_ Saturday afternoon." Smiling impishly and blushing, she got up and turned on the TV. "Let's watch that show you like. What's it called?"

"How It's Made. Channel 42."

Bill Burke sat silently as Jack Aarons read from his notes. It was early morning at the diner and one of the few times there were any significant number of people in the old converted rail car. The presence of others, however, was not disruptive this time as he considered what his friend was saying.

_I should have known..._

"You need to diversify more, Bill. Jeez, you have eighty percent of your liquid assets in one damn bank. If that bank were to go under you know what would happen?"

"Isn't it insured? That F.D.I.C. thing?" asked Bill lamely.

"Yep, one hundred thousand dollars, that's all. _And_ the government has ten years to pay you back." Jack paused to let his words sink in. "Get yourself down to Roanoke - _today_ - and move your money around. The way things are heading with the economy, tomorrow may be too late."

Bill nodded and took Jack's notes, surveying them briefly.

"Thanks, Jack. What about our little project?" Another small pile of papers was pushed across the table. Bill reviewed them while he sipped his coffee and gnawed on a bagel. "Wow! That much?"

"Yep."

"Ok, and you still want to do the . . . . General contracting, you call it? If you screw up I'll have to fire you."

Jack Aarons produced a rare smile. "I'll take my chances, and Jess and I will be doing most of the work."

"Good, then it's set. You'll start as soon as the weather gets better?"

"No, I have to get the access road started as soon as possible, and the surveyor back in, too."

"Ok. Say, have you heard from the county about the kids' land?"

"Not yet, but the surveyor will know and I'll ask when I call. I have to run," he said shortly, tossing a five-dollar bill on the table, which Bill matched. "Get your ass to town _today_, this morning, if possible." And with a quick handshake, Jack Aarons was off to work.

Revision 1.1, June, 2008


	49. Part 5: The Compensation, Part 1

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 49 – The Compensation (Part 1)**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

Less than two weeks before spring break and the long anticipated holiday - _somewhere_ - with his parents, and friends, Jesse's mind was far more focused on seeing his eldest sister for the first time in a fortnight. Even Leslie could not distract him from the forthcoming reunion, a fact that she found both amusing and touching. Two years earlier, Jesse would not have given Ellie the time of day, now they emailed daily and he spoke with genuine affection of the woman who was becoming an important part of his life.

Mary Aarons had noticed the shift taking place with her son, too, as he moved from seeking _her_ advice to her recently married _daughter's_. At times this hurt, even more than Ellie and Brenda's move to independence over the years, because Jesse had needed so much more from her. She also felt a sting of guilt that her attentions to the gifted boy had been so late in coming, and she pondered the possibility that her neglect was largely responsible for his mental issues now two years past. As recently as a year ago, he would come to her for advice, comfort, and even simple conversation. That was now gone, replaced by Ellie and even Brenda, now and then. He had also come to enjoy the companionship of May, Joyce Ann and Brian. But it was the bond he had created with Leslie Burke that pleased and concerned her the most.

Judy and Mary discussed their children almost daily, whenever they met for a morning cup of coffee, a walk in the forest, or, as in recent weeks, while reviewing Lamaze for the birth of Judy's fourth child. In years past, this time of sharing had focused solely on Jesse and Leslie, but at the women's friendship and children grew, their conversations came to include their entire families. There remained, however, an unspoken awareness – an elephant in the room - they could no longer ignore, and the conversation always returned to Jesse and Leslie. Both mothers were recognizing the transition of the two from best friends and boyfriend/girlfriend to something more permanent, possibly.

In reality, both Judy and Mary suspected - and secretly hoped for - a lasting bond between the kids for over a year, and in that respect were terribly disappointed when the couple broke up over the summer. Judy was ashamed at not having seen the signs of a medical problem earlier and blamed herself. Mary, still believing her boy could not have caused the rift, tended to blame Judy and Leslie. Afterwards, both realized the impromptu trip to Europe had been fortuitous or they might have said and done things two adults should know better than to say and do. Emotions run high in those situations, but, in the end, all worked out for the best.

Now, half a year later, as they awaited the arrival of the Walsh family for Sunday dinner, they were discussing (for what seemed like the hundredth time), what to do about Jesse and Leslie's obvious move towards a deeper physical intimacy. As usual, Judy had broached the subject, and as usual, Mary was less concerned about what she considered the inevitable and more about avoiding a situation that would damage or destroy the kids' friendship.

_It's very odd_, Mary Aarons considered, _that as the devout Catholic, I am more open about the realities of teen life_. She smiled.

"What are you thinking, Mare?" asked Judy.

"Ellie...about Ellie. When she was fifteen, she started having sex with some upperclassman from High School. It lasted only a few months." She laughed and shook her head. "She never suspected I knew about it."

"How _did_ you know?"

"By watching her. It was pretty obvious after a while: Her expressions, mannerisms, habits all changed. In a way, it made her more assertive and self-assured. Of course, that was also about the time she started ragging on Jesse."

Judy thought about this for a moment. "Interesting."

"Brenda, on the other hand, for all the problems she had a few years back - I don't think sex was ever a part of it. I'm not so sure now, with Anton, but she is old enough to know how to handle the pressures of intimacy. I think."

This last qualifier made Judy laugh. "Well, all I can say is I hope I recognize that change in Leslie as easily. She's matured a lot over the past year, and her behavior towards Jess has also."

"They're quite the pair. Jude, Jack _has_ talked to Jess a couple times about sex...at least he says he has."

"Oh, he has; Leslie told me that Jess told her. I'm glad. I do hope Bill and I didn't focus too much on the mechanics and not enough on the philosophy."

"But really, Jude, what else can we do? We've given instructions, incentives, threats and promises..."

"I know, I know. Maybe I'm just being old fashioned about virginity and that stuff."

"It isn't 'old fashioned'," Mary sighed, "it's just...difficult."

Walking on a little farther, Judy, normally the more talkative of the two, was quiet and acted nervous. More than once, Mary saw her glance her way but turn back before speaking. After the fifth time, she told her friend, "Spit it out, Jude."

"Bill and I have been talking about..._him_."

"Jess?"

"No, my, uh, our _first_ child. The boy we gave up for adoption when I was fourteen." Mary stopped and faced Judy, but said nothing. "We've been thinking about contacting him, or trying to. It was a closed adoption, so we would have to go through the courts, but..." she trailed off, shrugging uncertainly.

"Why, Jude? You both did what you had to, and out of love. I know you've come to terms with what you did. I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is."

"I know, but it's because of our success. We never imagined we would be wealthy, and maybe we should share some of our good fortune with him."

Mary was impressed. "Hadn't thought of it that way. Are you sure these are the true reasons?"

"We think so. I mean, he's going on twenty-four now, so it's not like we want custody."

_That's reasonable._ Mary took Judy's arm and started back towards the house. "Have you talked to your lawyers yet, to see what options you have?"

"No."

"How about Les? What does she think about this?"

Judy's look told Mary that the topic had not been broached.

* * *

Dinner went off superbly. Mary and Jack Aarons comfort level with Brenda's boyfriend continued to grow as they learned more about his past and future life in the military. Moreover, their daughter's obvious affection towards the tall, thin, blonde man was reassuring, too. Anton was also praised effusively on his berry pies and took home two empty plates as a testament to their tastiness. Following dessert, he and Brenda excused themselves from the families and went out for a walk, bundled up against the cold March evening.

Jesse, May, Leslie, Ellie and Toby went into the kitchen to clean while the other adults and children retired to the family room to talk or play. For the most part, Toby stood aside, not wanting to get the cast on his arm wet while his wife and Jesse made a mess washing the pots and pans. May, turning twelve in the fall but acting fifteen, put the leftovers away and chatted with Leslie, feeling privileged to be included amongst the two couples. When finished, the five sat around the small kitchen table. Jesse, Leslie and May tried to pry some war stories from Toby, but he instantly became serious and refused to talk about it, to the point where he snapped at Jesse for even bringing up the topic. When the adolescent apologized, Toby just grunted and hobbled out of the room.

Ellie turned to her brother but he spoke first. "What's eating him?"

"He's a little depressed about things right now. He received his preliminary discharge notice and wants to fight the Army to stay in."

"But he's blind in one eye," Jesse pointed out reasonably.

"He's not completely, Jess. And he's going to volunteer for one of those stem cell studies at Bethesda to see if his retina can be restored enough to be able to fight the discharge on better grounds." Ellie's explanation came as a surprise, but not as much as her next piece of information. "We also found out that his radiation exposure probably made him sterile. I think that's what's bothering him more."

Jesse, Leslie and May all said "Wow" at the same time; Ellie frowned.

"How do the doctors know?" asked May innocently.

"They checked his sperm, May Belle," Ellie answered, more harshly than she intended.

"Don't call me..."

"I know, sorry, May."

The girl set her face impassive, but her eyes were a bit watery. Jesse continued the line of questioning.

"How _do_ they check his, um, sperm?"

Next to him he heard Leslie snort back a laugh. Ellie looked at him sharply.

"How do you think? They put some under a microscope and count how many of the healthy little buggers are practicing the backstroke in a square millimeter."

Still confused, May returned to her line of questioning. "But _how_, Ellie? If the sperm are in his tentacles..."

"Testicles, May," Leslie whispered.

"Yeah, there. How do they look at them under a microscope?"

The other three could tell that May was trying to envision her new brother-in-law lying on some sort of evil-looking device with a giant lens focusing on his nether regions. Jesse looked to his older sister and smiled. "You tell her."

"C'mon, May, I'll fill you in," Ellie said, and led her to another room. Jesse ventured a look at Leslie and they both giggled.

Donning their jackets, Jesse and Leslie went outside to sit on the porch swing. In the distant woods, Brenda and Anton could be heard laughing about something. A few minutes after the sounds died down, and all that could be heard was the whisper of the wind in the dead autumn leaves, Leslie snuggled up to Jesse.

"One week, Jess. Are you excited?"

"Yeah, some. It's hard to know what to feel without knowing what I'm doing. Have your parents said _anything_ to you?"

"Not one word, but I do know it cost a bundle. And did you know our fathers are meeting in secret about something? I overheard _Bill and Judy_ talking about contracts and construction."

"Dad said we were going to be working on a big project after the holidays, but wouldn't say what."

Leslie's reply was aborted when she gave a shiver; Jesse pulled her closer.

"I'm going clothes shopping Tuesday evening with Mom. Do you need anything?"

"Nah, I think I'm set, but thanks."

"What size shoe do you wear?"

"What? Why?"

"Because I want to know. Those are nasty," Leslie said a little accusingly, pointing to Jesse's very worn-out sneakers. "Color preference?"

"Les, these are ok. Don't..."

"Fine, I won't!"

Leslie's sudden termination of the discussion confused Jesse and he remained silent. Shortly thereafter, she scooted away from him and folded her arms across her chest.

"_Wha'd I do?"_ Jesse asked quietly.

"Nothing, Jess, sorry. I just wanted you to look a little nicer for the trip."

"Oh...do I embarrass you?"

"No, never!" Leslie slid back next to her boyfriend. "I want you to have the best, that's all."

"Ok," was all Jesse could think of saying. He recalled clearly the problems his father and Leslie's had when they first met at the hospital years earlier, when Mr. Burke tried to pay Jesse's medical bill. Even though he had done it out of gratitude for saving his daughter's life, Jack Aarons was furious at the assumption that he needed help. Now, for the first time in their relationship, Jesse experienced a little of that same resentment and understood how his pride could be hurt.

But there was far more to it than dealing with this unfamiliar feeling. Leslie's offer was genuine, and generous, and...something more; caring, perhaps? Jesse knew she cared for him, but that was a type of caring based on affection. This was different. And the same. It was more as if she wanted to _take care_ of him. Not like his mother took care of him...it was a new and not altogether unpleasant feeling and his resentment rapidly vanished.

* * *

Grace Jacobs went home with Leslie after school and drama practice Wednesday, and was immediately paraded up to her bedroom where she found her friend's suitcase open on the floor and P.T. sleeping comfortably on a small pile of clothing inside. On the bed were a dozen bags and boxes from a variety of stores. Leslie explained them as remnants of her shopping spree with her mother the evening before. The girls changed and fetched a snack before the older girl revealed her reason for asking Grace over.

"You got to see this, Gracie," Leslie said, pulling a small bag from under her mattress and running to the bathroom. She returned a minute later wearing a robe, then closed and locked her bedroom door. Her guest was sitting at the desk with an expression of mixed curiosity and caution. Surprises by Leslie Burke, lately, usually stretched the boundaries of what Grace felt was appropriate behavior, and when Leslie dropped the robe, she saw this occasion was no exception.

She gawked, suppressing a wave of jealousy.

"Why bother?" Grace finally said with a frown, as Leslie spun around to show off the new two-piece, white, strapless bathing suit.

"Why bother what?"

_Why bother wearing anything? At least it's not French-cut..._

"Les, you can't wear _that_! It's – it's...wow. I hope you didn't pay much for it; there can't possibly be more than a couple dollars of fabric in the entire thing."

"Come on, Gracie, it's not _that_ bad," replied Leslie breathily, having completely missed Grace's message. "Jess's eyes will pop out when he sees me in it."

_Right, and so will Tom's...and every other male's. And eyes probably won't be the only thing popping out..._

"You don't think it's a little too, uh, skimpy, Les?"

"Of course it is, that's the whole point. Besides, it's just for show. I don't dare wear it in the water – if there is any where we're going."

"Let me guess, Judy doesn't know about this?"

Leslie smiled shrewdly. "_Judy_ couldn't keep up with me so she gave me the platinum credit card and told me not to exceed the limit, which is kinda hard when the _limit_ is _unlimited_."

Then Leslie walked over to her bed, picked up a small box and handed it to Grace.

"This is for you." Seeing the girl's disapproving look, she explained further while tugging on the edge of her top. "Don't worry, as much as I wanted to I didn't buy you one like this."

Grace opened the box and pulled out a similar suit, wondering how Leslie had thought she would wear an outfit that revealing. She started to undress to try it on.

"You can use the loo, Gracie."

"Why? This will hardly cover up anything anyway."

Leslie shrugged and looked away while her friend changed. When finished, Grace announced that she was ready.

"Wow! It looks _great_ on you!" Leslie exclaimed truthfully.

Walking to the full-length mirror, Grace looked for a few seconds and found she was not altogether disappointed with the gift. It was the same white materiel, but cut like a traditional bikini. Leslie stepped up next to her and put an arm over her shoulder.

"_Sisters!_ God, we _do_ look alike. Turn around." Grace and she both turned and looked over their shoulder. Except for Grace's slightly longer and wavy hair, and her more muscular shoulders, they were identical from behind.

"Not from the front. I wish I had _your_ boobs," lamented Grace, cupping her hands under her smaller mounds, trying to form some discernable cleavage.

"They'll grow more, you're only fourteen. You're mother was, uh, _built_, wasn't she?"

"Yeah."

"There you go, give it a couple more years. Besides, I'm not a B-cup yet, and I've only gotten smaller since last summer."

"_What?!_ How did you get _smaller_?"

Leslie reminded Grace of the birth control implants she'd used and how they had increased her size for a few months. "And bigger isn't always better, Gracie. Look." To Grace's astonishment, Leslie pulled up her top, completely exposing her chest. "Notice anything?"

Grace laughed. "Besides the obvious? No."

"Look," Leslie insisted, pointing at each side, but Grace shook her head. Sighing, Leslie removed her top completely, picked up a ruler from her desk, and held it level with the bottom of her breasts. "See? One's lower than the other. It's not much, but..."

"Leslie Burke," Grace interrupted. "I _guarantee_ you that that will be the _very last thing_ Jesse Aarons notices when he sees them...or has he already?"

"No, not yet. So...it's not _too_ obvious?" she persisted, tossing the top on her bed and pulling on a t-shirt.

"Les, you're fine, really. And thanks for the gift, I think I _will_ wear it," she said brightly, and hugged Leslie before changing back into her clothes.

The girls looked through the other far less controversial purchases, including a number of items Leslie had purchased for Jesse. Grace found this amusing, but kept quiet. And while she had long ago come to terms with her relationship with Jesse, it still pained her a bit to know he and Leslie were probably together permanently.

"You really love him, don't you? I mean, like, _really_ love him."

Leslie smiled dreamily. "Yes, I do. More than anything."

"I'm glad. You two were made for each other."

Leslie didn't respond, but Grace could see she agreed.

* * *

Bill and Judy Burke kept nearly every aspect of the trip secret from the kids, and even Jack and Mary Aarons refused to reveal anything before it happened. With these secretive measures, the four adolescents were informed Thursday that they would meet at the Burke house at five in the afternoon that Friday, packed and ready to spend a week in a warm climate with suntan lotion, bathing suits, and sunglasses, but that was about all the four knew. And that they had to bring one change of semi-formal clothes.

Thus gathered, the six travelers bade goodbye and thanks to their benefactors, receiving in return the usual admonitions to behave and so forth. Al Jacobs, unable to accompany the others, arrived at the Burke's just before a limo pulled up to carry the six on the first part of the adventure. He too wished all a wonderful trip, taking Tom aside and gesticulating warningly. The boy looked disappointed about something, but the other three teens found this quite amusing.

Then it was time to go.

Bill handed Jack a zippered leather folder, ostensibly with their tickets, money, and other travel documents. Jesse noticed his father take it hesitantly, but he thanked Leslie's warmly and even embraced Judy before turning to say goodbye to their other children and give final directions to Ellie and Toby who would be staying at the house and (hopefully) keeping things under control. The six climbed into the limo, saw Bill tip the man, and the journey was on.

"Ok, you four, here's how things are going to work," Mary Aarons stated, as soon as everyone was buckled in and settled. "Tonight we're driving to Roanoke and staying at the airport Holiday Inn because our flight leaves very early tomorrow."

"How early, Mom?"

In answering, Jack Aarons grimaced. "Have to be at the airport at four...in the morning."

Not unexpectedly, the kids groaned; so did Mary Aarons before telling them, "If it makes you feel any better, this is the only real early morning activity all week."

"Next. We have two rooms at the motel tonight. Mary and I will take the suite with Jess and Tom in the other room. Leslie and Grace will have the second room. Stop moaning, Jess. Ok. Mr. Burke made dinner reservations for us at eight tonight, so when we're checked in, be in the front lobby at seven-forty." And with that, the instructions for the first day were complete.

An hour later, the limo arrived at the Holiday Inn and was greeted by two bellhops with trolleys for the luggage. To Jack and Mary's surprise, a clerk appeared, too, handing them their room keys with instructions that all was taken care of, even tips for the two boys bringing the luggage. Sharing a look with his wife, Jack took the keys, thanked the clerk, and suggested they go straight up to their rooms. The procession followed the two bellhops.

Not surprisingly, the Aarons/Burke/Jacobs party soon found they were staying in the best rooms in the establishment. The 'suite' was more like a flat and reminded Jesse of their hotel in Glasgow years before. A man met them inside and stated he would be at their call for the short stay. The Aarons parents and Jacobs children had never experienced this sort of opulence and stood in a mild state of shock for a minute while Jesse and Leslie ran around in delight. Jesse was particularly happy to find that he would not have to share a foldaway bed with Tom: Their room contained twin beds. Shortly thereafter, Grace and Leslie went to their room and returned a few minutes later with praise for their accommodations, also.

Dinner was at a city restaurant Jack knew by reputation, though more for its excellent food than its formality. Nearing ten o'clock, they were returned to the inn and instructed to go straight to bed, which, of course, no one did. All the teens were too excited about the next part of the trip to sleep: Grace and Leslie stayed up talking, Tom and Jesse were on the phone with the airport trying to figure out what flights departed so early on a Saturday morning. Two did, one to Dallas/Fort Worth, the other to Miami. Tom was betting on the first, it had a connecting flight to Cozumel, Mexico. Jesse said he thought the Miami flight could be the first leg of a trip to the Caribbean. Both were wrong, in part.

Following a very short night, the six met the same limo and driver in front of the motel (looking just as tired as they felt) at three-fifty the next morning for the ten minute drive to the terminal. They were almost the only ones present at that hour, as few but the wealthiest could afford to travel due to the extreme cost of fuel. Only a handful of airlines had survived the economic hardship of the past three years, and they continued to struggle, kept afloat only by huge government subsidies and almost yearly bailouts. Ridership was barely a quarter of what it was in the previous decade.

When their bags were checked in, the kids learned their next destination: Miami. Jesse had won the bet with Tom, but also learned that the southern city was not just a layover to points further south, they would be staying there for an unspecified time.

The next surprise, though Jack and Mary were quickly learning that the Burke's were reliably generous in their travel plans, came when they boarded the new mid-sized commuter jet, one of a recent model built for fuel efficiency. Holding only forty passengers, the eight seats at the front of the cabin were their home for the next two hours, along with a prosperous looking elderly couple who seemed affronted by the presence of adolescents in first-class. Breakfast was served immediately following takeoff, though Grace and Leslie decided to forgo the excellent cuisine and sleep more. Tom and Jesse feasted on steak and eggs covered with a hollandaise sauce, rolls, juice, fruit, and a large tumbler containing a bubbly red-orange drink. They were later to learn it contained a generous portion of Champaign. Jack and Mary noticed the boys' silliness as the trip progressed and spoke to the flight attendant. It turned out she had accidently delivered the mimosas intended for the elderly couple to the boys. Jack found it amusing, but Mary frowned the rest of the flight. When Jesse and Tom exited the plane in Miami, they had burgeoning headaches worthy of a mild hangover.

Even at eight in the morning, the Miami weather was warm and humid, far closer to their hometown weather in August. But they had hardly felt the steamy heat when Grace noticed a large sign with **AARONS PARTY** written upon it and held high by a liveried chauffeur pulling a luggage trolley. It appeared to be like the Roanoke limo service all over again. Jack went up to the man and shortly gave him the baggage claim tickets whereupon he walked to the luggage carousel to find their bags.

Leslie smiled at Mr. Aarons as he approached her. "Dad can get a little carried away at times, Mr. Aarons."

"I noticed that," he grunted in reply, though he did not seem too terribly put out, he appeared more embarrassed.

An hour later the limo pulled up to the South Seas Hotel and the party found themselves checked into similarly regal accommodations as the previous evening, but this time the views were of the turquoise waters of South Miami Beach and its wide, white sands instead of the brown Appalachian Mountains. Amid 'ahs' and 'wows' from the children and adults alike, the day was just starting below. They were invited to breakfast by the 'butler,' but only Jack and the two boys sat to eat the proffered freshly cooked meal; Grace and Leslie worked on Mrs. Aarons to go for a walk on the beach before it became too hot. She agreed, needing little enticement, and the lotion, sunglasses, and hats were immediately unpacked, and cooler clothing donned. In five minutes they were heading out. Having only visited Virginia Beach once, and when she was fifteen, Mary Aarons appeared as excited about the ocean as the two girls.

When finished with breakfast, Jesse and Tom left to explore the hotel and ended up spending an hour in the video game arcade. Then going outside they checked out the rectangular twenty-five meter pool surrounded by towering palm trees and comfortable chairs. Bars at either end of the pool deck were already open but both felt a little queasy just looking at them, the Champaign had not sat well with their stomachs.

Five minutes had not passed when three girls looking about their age walked over and began talking to them. Jesse listened little, mostly impressed by his friend's ability to easily gab with almost anyone. But all three girls made him uncomfortable. They were very well dressed, in their bikinis and flimsy jackets, with expensive looking jewelry and Prada handbags. And as Jesse observed them more closely, he noticed heavy makeup and a glassy look in their eyes. Distracted by his own investigation, he almost missed Tom telling them to get lost, but his friend's comment about them being, "_Not worth ten bucks, let alone a hundred_," finally told Jesse what was going on.

The three girls gave Jesse and Tom the finger and walked away; a moment later two hotel security guards ran by and, based on the shouts, curses, and scuffling noises, apprehended the three hookers. Tom gave Jesse and amused look and said, "Why should I pay when the twins give it..."

Jesse cut him off. "_NO!_ I don't want to hear it, Tom!"

Laughing, the older boy said he was joking, but Jesse wasn't too sure.

"Look, Jess, around two or three in the afternoon, the local colleges let out and the beach is full of girls. I'm gonna go back to the room and sleep for a couple hours. Let's go back out then, ok?"

Jesse laughed. "Sure, sounds good, except today is Saturday." Tom rose, shaking his head a if to clear the cobwebs, and Jesse followed. He had heard the stories of South Beach and was far more interested in the legendary top-optional beach than he had been in France with Leslie three years before. As they rode the elevator to the penthouse floor, Jesse, red-faced, asked Tom, "What happens if we see some, um, some girls and we get, um, _you know_...?"

"Just run into the water, it'll be cold this time of year," he laughed.

Jesse wasn't convinced, however, that that would help. "If you didn't notice, the water's crystal clear."

* * *

Mary, Leslie, and Grace returned from their own excursion just before noon carrying a number of bags and each wearing a large straw hat. They found Jesse and Jack talking on the balcony, and Tom sleeping soundly on his bed, drooling onto the pillow. Leslie fetched her digital camera and took a couple pictures for future incriminating purposes. Grace tried to wake him for lunch but he told her to save him a PBJ.

The penthouse cook offered to make lunch, and was nearly turned down until Jack discovered he could cook Cuban dishes such as ropa vieja and tamales en cazuela. He stopped everyone as they were about to walk out and ordered up the two dishes, guaranteeing his wife and the teens satisfaction. "I had these as a kid and there's _nothing_ better from the Caribbean!" Jack exclaimed in a tone of rapture neither Mary nor Jesse had heard from him in years. The cook beamed with delight and served petite Cuban sandwiches to hold everyone over while he scrambled to prepare the ordered fare.

Over the next two hours, Jesse's father would pace in and out of the kitchen, sampling the rice, beans, steak or pork, then return to the large sitting room rolling his eyes and smiling. Each time he came back the party would laugh, but Jack ignored them. When the lunch was finally served around two, no one had anything bad to say about the meal. Jack looked to be in heaven and ate serving after serving of the spicy dishes. Even Grace, never one to care for heavily seasoned food, had seconds and earned Jack and the cook's affection.

Tom awoke after the dishes were cleaned from lunch and suggested a trip to the beach. The weather predicted thunderstorms in about four hours and not knowing the plans for the next few days, he recommended they take advantage of the sun while it lasted. Then he winked at Jesse. Jack and Mary told the kids to head down and they would follow later. As the four teens traveled to the beach, Jesse told the others that his parents wanted some time alone. Tom smirked, Leslie smiled at her boyfriend, and Grace looked confused.

Tom's earlier prediction of cold water was correct, but all four braved the chill and jumped in after playing Frisbee in the hot, humid, salty ocean air. Once in, all marveled at the clarity of the water and visible marine life, even though none were seeing it for the first time.

Jack and Mary appeared around five and were doing something Jesse had never seen them do outside church: holding hands. Both beamed, almost ignoring the teens, and ran into the cool ocean surf without hesitation. They acted like two teens themselves, splashing, touching, kissing. Both were totally relaxed and Jesse pulled Leslie from the water and sat on the sand to watch them.

"I've never seen them so stress-free, Les. They're like different people."

"I know. I'm happy for them. Mom and Dad said they needed this kind of holiday."

Jesse put his arm around Leslie and sat silently for while. The late afternoon crowds were thinning some, but the beach was still moderately crowded. True to Tom's prediction, the occasional topless female or group walked by, but still far fewer than he and Leslie had seen in France. More than once Leslie saw Jesse staring.

"I thought you said it can get a guy in trouble, looking at girls like _that_," she teased playfully.

"Um, yeah...but, um, I hate to waste the opportunity. Who knows? I might die tonight never having really seen, um, _that_." Jesse stumbled at the last word, a teenage girl splashed out of the ocean just then, not five yards from them, bare from the waist up. Jesse looked towards Leslie, his face bright red.

"She's cute, don't you think?" kidded Leslie mercilessly.

"Uh-huh, too cute. Let's go in the water for a while." Jumping up, he pulled Leslie into the surf and dove into a wave the second he felt the water was deep enough. When he surfaced, Tom was walking his way and Leslie was headed towards a very abashed Grace whose face was the color of the Barbara Keane's hair.

"What's wrong, mate?" Tom said, and too loudly for Jesse's liking.

Jesse blushed. "Sssh! Jeez, Tom!"

"Enjoy it while you can, Jess."

"It's kinda hard right now."

"I'll bet it is!" Tom said knowingly, which caused Jesse's face to turn four shades darker.

The two friends splashed around for a while after the girl was out of sight, then bodysurfed in the small waves for a while. Seeing Leslie and Grace off with his parents, Jesse led Tom a bit further down the beach and asked discretely, "Are the twins as good looking as that girl?"

Tom appraised his friend for a few seconds. Jesse Aarons had never really broached such a topic with him. He nodded. "Yeah, but bigger on top."

"Are they, um, _really_ identical, um, you know?"

With a wry smile, Tom asked Jesse why he thought he might know the answer to such a question.

"Les told me about her party last week..." He explained about the brief game of Truth or Dare.

"My sister is an angel, isn't she?" Tom sighed exaggeratedly. "They are identical in every respect, except the left-right mirror thing."

Jesse gawked. "You've seen _everything_?"

"Seen or felt."

Pausing, and with a look of disbelief, Jesse saw Tom wasn't kidding. Or he wasn't acting like he was kidding - much. "Have you, um, _done it_ with either...or both?"

"Nah, not yet; but pretty much everything else."

Jesse felt rather insignificant. "Really? Like...oral?"

"Yeah, what's the big deal? It's the first time for all of us so we don't have to worry about STDs, and ..."

"Wait! What do you mean, '_all of us_'?"

"The twins and Mikey and me. It's more fun in a group. Sometime we have contests to see who can..."

"_STOP!_" Jesse almost shouted. "_Shit_, Tom, I thought I _knew_ you. You guys are having _group_ _sex_?"

"You _know_ I'm yanking your chain, Jess, don't you?" Tom finally said as he watched his friend's face turn pale green.

"I – I don't know _when_ to believe you," he admitted seriously.

"Jess, Carol and I fool around some, but no sex. Sorry." He sounded faintly disappointed, like it was an admission of failure.

Not certain if he was relieved, Jesse just nodded. Then he looked over to Leslie and considered how his thoughts towards her had changed as Tom was bragging. He found himself becoming both physically aroused and mentally disgusted. Closing his eyes, he brought up the image of the girl, probably not even Leslie's age, and saw how pleasing her body was. Then he let it fade back into his mind. But what would not fade away was a deeper curiosity, a mysterious yearning, a base desire to see Leslie run out of the water like that. He strongly suspected she _would_, if he asked her. _She certainly had been hinting at it!_ The thought both excited and terrified him; but unlike earlier points in their relationship, he was now more interested by the idea than frightened.

When he looked up at his surroundings again, Jesse saw that everyone had headed in except his father who was just a few strides away. He was smiling, and it made him a little uncomfortable; he suspected he was about to get another lecture on chastity.

Jack Aarons stopped in front of his son. "Quite a day, Jess. Having a good time?"

"Yeah, Dad. It's great being with Les, Tom, and Grace...and you and Mom, too," he added hastily.

"Don't worry about us, we old farts can take care of ourselves."

Father and son chuckled.

"Jess, I have some good news and some bad news. No, no, nothing bad has happened. Your mother and I were watching you a while ago when that girl ran by you and Leslie."

Groaning, Jesse just nodded.

"The good news is that we're leaving tomorrow afternoon." so you won't be subjected to that type of pressure again...here." Jesse looked up and saw his father smiling sarcastically. "The bad news is that you'll probably run into it again this week."

"I'll be ok," Jesse mumbled unconvincingly.

"Son," Jack began in a tone far more gentle than Jesse could recall him using before, "the human body is a wonderful thing. God and evolution made it pleasing to us for a reason..."

"But Father Kelly always says it's rejecting that _stuff_," he pronounced _stuff_ as if it were a dirty word, "that makes us better than animals."

"No, Jess, we aren't better because we _reject_ it, we're better because we _control_ it. There's a big difference."

In frustration, Jesse threw his hands up in the air. "Then what am I supposed to do, Dad? Every time I see something like that I want to...um, you know, see _Leslie_ like that!"

"Jess, we've talked about you and Leslie waiting until..."

"I don't mean I want to _do it_, um, have sex with her, Dad. I guess I just want, um..."

"I know that, son. Believe it or not, I _was_ your age once and had the same desires and curiosities. I can't tell you what to do any more, you know right from wrong. I can only guide you and help when you ask for it." Jack sighed, seeing his son was still troubled, and pressed on in spite of his own discomfort. "Leslie Burke is a _very_ beautiful young lady, Jess. I'd be a fool to think you wouldn't be physically attracted to her, especially at your age. Your mother and I know you two love each other deeply and..._things_ might happen. That's part of being human too son: making mistakes, even ones that don't feel like they're mistakes at the time. Let your conscience guide you, and if you slip, pick you ass up and start over."

"Yeah, I know. The thing is, Dad, when I get, um, in that situation, I kinda forget about the right thing."

Jack Aarons gripped his son's shoulder firmly, producing a small chuckle as he thought back twenty-five years. "Yeah, it's called it thinking with your prick, not your head."

Laughing, Jesse thanked his father and after a few seconds of silence started walking in to the beach. He'd gone only a couple steps, however, when his father stopped him one last time.

"Um, Jess, do you need anything...like, um, rubbers?"

His father's face was very red, Jesse noticed, and he also realized that every other time they had spoken about sex it had been while walking outside at night. Blushing a little himself, Jesse told him he didn't have to worry. "Les has some." Then he ran to the beach where the others were collecting their things. Shaking off his momentary shock, Jack started after his son, calling out good-natured threats, but found he could no longer keep up with the laughing young man.

* * *

Later that evening, following dinner and receiving directions to be packed and in the hotel lobby no later than one o'clock the next afternoon, Jesse and Leslie walked out to the beach for some time alone. A brief thunderstorm an hour earlier had done little to lessen the heat, and had actually made the atmosphere more humid. But there was a breeze off the Atlantic to cool the couple as they sat in two borrowed beach chairs. On the horizon, twinkling like stars in the night sky, were a number of vessels plying north and south; the closest was an enormous cruise liner that appeared headed towards the Fort Meyers port facilities.

Very few people were on this particular section of the beach, it was a rectangular, roped-in area on the oceanside of the hotel, exclusively for guests. Latin music played softly at the large bar behind them, and the patrons next to the more crowded pool were hardly noticeable. Farther down the beach, maybe a quarter mile, Jesse's mother and Grace were slipping into the hazy combination of nautical twilight and a gathering haze. Tom and Jesse's father, when last seen, were heavily engaged in an air-hockey game with some other tourists.

The ocean was far rougher than it had been that afternoon, the storm having whipped up five and six foot breakers that crashed noisily on the coral and sand. A few hearty surfers in wet suits were braving the cold water. Most were pretty good. One man, about twenty, appeared to be showing his sister how to surf, and with little success. Jesse noticed, upon her giving up the effort, that it was the dreaded topless-teen from earlier. The young brunette jogged right by them, apparently staying in the same hotel, and slowed for a second to wave in recognition. Cursing his courteousness, he waved back. Seeing Leslie was also greeting her made him feel a little better. But ten minutes later the girl reappeared and stopped to talk – fully clothed – even wearing a windbreaker. Jesse said little, but Leslie invited her to join them and kicked her boyfriend when he didn't immediately echo her offer.

Her name was Claire (she supplied no surname) and was on vacation with her older brother and sister, and parents. After only a minute, Jesse recognized her as a chatty, extraverted sort of girl, like Grace and Barbara. He also learned she was thirteen, with her fourteenth birthday just a week after Jesse's fifteenth: April nineteenth. She hung with them for a while pointing out how her brother loved to surf and swim, and that her brief topless romp in the surf was done on a dare from him, much to her parents' disapproval. They were from Ohio, Claire went on to explain, though Tim, the brother, was studying at UCLA where he picked up the surfing bug. This was their first family vacation in years and they were leaving the next day for a cruise, she added. Jesse caught Leslie's brief look; both had suspected that a cruise was the big secret her parents had planned. A sense of déjà vu fell over Jesse as the three talked, but he couldn't pinpoint what had triggered it. Thus distracted, he didn't hear Claire's comments leading up to her yelling at a man looking their way from the bar.

"_What?_"

"He's a pervert. I saw him taking pictures of me earlier, when I ran out of the water."

"Oh," Jesse mumbled, trying to sound sympathetic. That was difficult for him, however, as he honestly felt that anyone prancing around topless was fair game for cameras; and in itself, that was quite a shift in personal values over the past two years.

"Claire," Leslie said, leaning closer to their new friend and in front of Jesse, "look over there." She gesticulated discreetly at a low gnarly hedge where three men were trying to act casually disinterested. Jesse, however, immediately saw what Leslie was pointing out.

Claire shrugged. "What about them?"

"They, uh, might be here because of, well, me."

"Why, were you swimming topless, too?"

Jesse coughed and Leslie punched him.

"No. My father's kinda famous and they follow me around at places like this." Leslie's tone made it clear she hated the attention, but Claire's interest was raised.

"Who's your father?" the brunette asked softly, curiously, as if she was about to learn a huge State secret. And even more quietly Leslie told her. For a moment Jesse thought Claire was going to jump up and draw attention to them, but she managed to restrain herself, though her eyes were wide in amazement.

"Wow! I'd _love_ to meet him, I'm reading _One Plus One_ right now…well, not right this _second_, obviously…can he autograph it for me? I won't tell…" This went on for another minute, much to Jesse's amusement, until his girlfriend quieted her down.

"Sorry, my father isn't here."

"Oh, I see," Claire sighed in obvious disappointment.

"But Jess can autograph it." Leslie thumbed in his direction and earned a nasty look in return. Claire didn't understand the comment, however, until it was explained further. When she heard the story she ran off to get her book; but, as Jesse pointed out, not as fast as she would have done were Bill Burke present. Leslie laughed and went to kiss Jesse until she saw one of the Paparazzi swing his camera up for a picture. Instead, she stuck out her tongue at the photographer and told Jesse in a whisper she'd give him something special later.

When the teen returned, Jesse autographed the picture on the first chapter, and then had to endure more questions about his drawing, and if he was rich, and so forth. Before he knew it, his parents and the Jacobs had come out looking for them and it was approaching ten o'clock. Tom was game for more chatting, particularly after meeting Claire's older sister, Mel, but the parents of both parties ushered their charges back to the hotel. Jesse wasn't annoyed, either, he was exhausted, having been up since three that morning. He and Leslie gave Claire an awkward pat goodbye on the arm and completely missed Jack and Mary tell her parents that they would see them tomorrow.

Showered and nearly asleep on his feet, Jesse shuffled into the sitting room and said goodnight to his parents. He then headed to the girls' room and found Leslie wearing an excessively large t-shirt of his which Brenda and Ellie had given him as a joke years before. Leslie had pilfered it from his room the previous fall and he'd seen her wearing it a few times. The shirt looked absurdly large when draped over the wiry blonde, to the point where it usually fell completely off one shoulder, which, Jesse had come to realize, was her whole point in wearing it.

He rapped on the door softly and Leslie motioned him in. Checking that his parents were still in the other room, he nearly jumped across the room and pulled Leslie into a tight embrace. She then leaned back and kissed him deeply, continuing until they heard Grace come out of the bathroom and give a little squeak in surprise: She was wearing only a towel wrapped around her, and after giving Leslie a pleading look ducked back into the bathroom and waited for the all-clear.

"Time to go," Jesse could barely say through their pressed lips. Leslie nodded and released him.

"Night, Jess."

"Yeah…" Jesse whispered back, staring at Leslie's shoulder. The shirt had slipped down to her elbow on one side exposing the upper quarter and side of her right breast. She saw this and slipped a finger into the collar, pulling it down further – but not too far. Suddenly weak-kneed, Jesse backed out of the room and went to his own. Despite the rush of adrenaline, and a racing heart, Jesse fell asleep after only a minute, much to Tom's disgust. He wanted to sneak out to meet up with Mel, and he needed a distraction for Jesse's parents.

Revision 1.1, July, 2008


	50. Part 5: The Compensation, Part 2

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 50 – The Compensation (Part 2)**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

A homemade breakfast the next morning greeted each of the vacationers as they rose, though no more than two were present at any one time. Jesse's parents were the first to get up, and following a light meal of coffee and toast, left a note for the kids and went down to the beach for a long walk. They were close to returning when Grace and Leslie dragged themselves into the small dining area for juice and cereal. Seeing the note, they threw on their clothes and went out, also, to watch the sparse Sunday morning activities around the hotel, and met Mr. and Mrs. Aarons as they showered the sand off their feet next to the pool. Jesse and Tom were just stumbling into the dining area when the others came in the front door.

Mr. and Mrs. Aarons were not going to press the issue with the teens, but they headed to their room to shower and dress for Sunday Mass at the Catholic Church two blocks away. Grace said she would join them and the other three reluctantly agreed to go also. Jesse had been gently prodding Leslie to resume her RCIC classes since the previous summer, but she stubbornly held out for some reason Jesse could not quite weasel out of her. They still attended Mass together, but that was the extent of her conversion, up to this point.

It was nearly eleven when they returned to the hotel and saw Claire and her family in the large atrium that doubled as a dining area for the guests' complementary brunch. The four teens sat at a neighboring table while Jack and Mary went up to change and start packing.

Tom immediately struck up a conversation with Mel, while her brother, Tim, the surfer, watched on amusedly as his sister and her new friend flirted unabashedly. Jesse and Leslie talked with Claire about her imminent cruise and found she was excited, but also concerned that there would not be kids her age, or that she would get bored after a couple days. Her parents would cut in now and then and try to assure her there would be plenty of activities to keep her busy. Claire nodded, but her face said she was skeptical.

While the Sunday Brunch service proceed busily around them, the Virginia travelers were treated to a look into what their new Ohio friends were about to embark upon. Mike and Alice Haskell, the parents, pulled out the brochures with information about their cruise ship and ports of call. The Royal Caribbean's _Freedom of the Seas_ was a monstrous machine, one of the largest cruise ships in the world, displacing more than one hundred sixty thousand tons, or as Mr. Haskell explained, about the weight of four World War II battleship. "And she's longer than an aircraft carrier," he pointed out. "Over eleven hundred feet!"

Jesse, Leslie and Grace were spellbound at the pictures on the pamphlets. The ship had a wave rider, climbing wall, water slides, three swimming pools, four hot tubs, basketball and tennis courts, a nine-hole miniature golf course, skeet shooting – and that was on the top decks alone! The interior contained fifteen floors of shops, theatres, six dining rooms, eight specialty restaurants, spas, saunas, night clubs, casinos, a library - in short, it was a small city for up to four thousand people. And the accommodations ran from small interior cabins to royal suites big enough for large families.

"We're not getting one of those," Claire stated without a hint of resentment; then she pointed to two adjoining interior cabins they had purchased on deck four. "Mel and I get the small cabin. Tim will share the suite with mom and dad."

The itinerary was as impressive as the ship:  
Day Port Arrive Depart Activity  
1 Miami, Florida 4:30 PM  
2 Cruising  
3 Puerto Rico 3:00 PM 11:00 PM Docked  
4 St. Thomas 8:00 AM 6:00 PM Docked  
5 St. Maarten 8:00 AM 5:00 PM Docked  
6 Cruising  
7 Miami, Florida 7:00 AM

Mr. Haskell continued talking about the cruise as Tom and Mel disappeared. "We leave Miami today at five o'clock and get to San Juan, Puerto Rico Tuesday morning," he said excitedly, pointing out the details. "We stay there much of the day. Then to Charlotte Amalie at St. Thomas, Philipsburg, St. Maarten, and returning back here to Miami early next Sunday morning. Al and I have wanted to do this for years and this was probably the last chance to take all the kids." The father's anticipation was obvious and contagious, Alice (or Al), his wife, Tim and Claire appeared ready to jump out of their seats that minute to get to the ship.

"And where are the six of you headed?" Mrs. Haskell asked.

Shrugging, Jesse admitted, "Um, we don't know, exactly." Then he proceeded to explain about the surprise and some of how it came about. When he mentioned Leslie's parents, Claire begged to tell her family who she was. Leslie sighed, but kept a smile as Claire told her parents and brother about her father.

"And Jesse was one of the illustrators of the book, too," Claire added, pointing out that she had gotten his autograph the previous evening.

As noon arrived, it was time for the two groups to say their final goodbyes. This time Claire hugged Leslie and Grace, and then gave Jesse an amusingly formal handshake. Tom reappeared with Mel, his hair slightly disheveled, and a sly smile on his face. The girl gave him a brief hug goodbye and walked off quickly with her brother and under the curious stares of everyone else.

When the Haskell family had moved out of earshot, Jesse turned to Tom. "Come on, Don Juan, time to pack." Tom continued to smile and followed the others to their room.

* * *

Upon returning to the suite, Mr. Aarons asked to speak with Leslie and they went into her room where she was handed a sheet of paper.

"I received this from your father this morning, he asked me to show it to you."

Leslie's face fell as she read through the warning about reports of photographers following her. Handing the email back, she explained how she and Jesse had already run into a few. Mr. Aarons put on one of his old, sour, unpleasant faces and mumbled an unintelligible curse as he walked out. Jesse entered immediately afterwards and asked what was wrong. She told him.

"I have an idea. If we don't know where we're going today, they probably don't either." He explained his plan and went to speak with his father.

At one o'clock, the Lark Creek vacationers met in the front lobby as yet another limo arrived to take them to their next destination. Off to the side of the hotel, the Haskell family was boarding a shuttle bus to the Port of Miami for their cruise. Claire saw them and waved goodbye one last time before disappearing behind a heavily tinted window.

"Nice kid," Jesse said to Leslie.

"Uh-huh. I could tell you thought so yesterday, Aarons," she replied, laughing and squeezing her boyfriend's hand. She received an exaggerated Cheshire cat grin in return and then noted sourly, "So...what's the plan? I see my fans are already gathering." Pointing across the parking lot, a group of a half-dozen photographers were milling about, some taking pictures and others looking ready to jump in their car to follow the limo when it departed.

"You'll see, it won't be too long."

And it wasn't. Ten minutes later, having just turned onto Ocean Drive and as Mary was about to reveal their next destination, the limo made an abrupt turn into a parking garage. Looking behind, Jesse saw the guard immediately close the gate so no one else could enter. Their chauffeur had done his job properly. The limo stopped around a corner and everyone got out and went into two inconspicuous cars. Not two minutes after entering the garage, the limo sped off, out the same way it had entered, with an even half-dozen cars and bikes tailing. Everyone remained quietly out of sight, slipping down in their seats, for another fifteen minutes while their tails were led north on Ocean Drive. Then their cars started and a couple not-so-refined young men drove them away.

Crouched down in the seats, the teens could not tell which way they were headed, at first, even when Jesse picked his head up to peer out the window. He observed they were going over a high bridge, between the barrier islands and the mainland, he speculated. Hundreds of motorboats were docked in the port area, a couple dozen sailboats of all sizes tacked into the wind, making their slow way out to the ocean that had become as smooth as glass overnight. As he related this to Leslie, she tried to worm up to see, but was told by Mrs. Aarons to stay down.

Jesse's view was suddenly blocked by a white wall and he gasped as they started past the Port of Miami terminal; the wall was a cruise ship, the word _Carnival_ painted in dark blue near the bow with accompanying red and gold filigree.

He moved up a little more and gasped. "There are four _HUGE_ boats here, Les. Mom, can she look?"

"Make it quick, Leslie," Mrs. Aarons said, and the other teen popped her head up so she could just see the ships.

"That must be the one Claire's going on," Leslie gasped, pointing to one liner that was twice as big as the others were. "Look! There's the waterslide and all that other stuff on top." Slipping back down, she nestled herself under Jesse's arm and sighed. "Maybe next year we can do that, Jess."

Mrs. Aarons turned around and asked her son if he would like to take a cruise some time. The answer was something along the lines of, "Yeah, right, Mom." Neither teen felt the subtle lane change, but the rapid deceleration _was_ obvious.

"Where _are_ we going, Mom?"

"When we switched cars I was just about to tell you two and the others. We're headed to the Caribbean."

"What? On - on a boat, on a cruise ship – like one of these? I _KNEW_ it!" Jesse shouted, hugging Leslie who was suddenly looking guilty. "Did you know, too, Les?"

"By accident. I heard your father and Mr. Haskell talking last night. Sorry, I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

But by the look on his face, it was clear to Leslie that Jesse was upset about nothing just then. He sat back up into the seat, but kept low as the car made a circuit around the busy embarkation area, pulling into a secluded and enclosed area. The other car, with Mr. Aarons and the Jacobs, had just arrived also. The driver turned around and asked them to wait at the car while he checked in.

The six gathered between the two vehicles and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dark interior; it took a minute after so long in the bright sun. But soon their quiet was replaced with more expressions of amazement. The structure they had stopped in was full of limos and other expensive looking automobiles. They were parked in the "Millionaires' lot," as Tom called it. There was very little activity except for one car on the far side of the building where a small family was also gathering their things. As their car was unloaded, a golf cart-like vehicle pulled up and their luggage was loaded.

Then Leslie nearly cried out: "_Jesse!_ That's – that's _that_ girl, the one from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory!"

"Oh, who? The gum girl you thought was creepy?"

"No, the other one, uh, Veruca Salt. _Ohmygosh!_ I hope she's on our ship!"

Jesse, Tom and Grace laughed at Leslie's uncontrolled excitement while an electric tram pulled up behind their cars. Two well-dressed men jumped off and started loading their bags. When finished, all were instructed to sit while they were shuttled to the check-in area. It was a brief ride, and Leslie saw the actor (whose real name she could still not recall) was in line immediately in front of them. At one point she turned around and smiled at Tom, completely ignoring Leslie's own bashful wave.

Over the next ten minutes, the six travelers were given a short introduction to Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines and the ship they were about to board. Picture IDs were issued and explanations given on their use. Jesse overheard the woman who was making the arrangements tell his parents that the passes were essentially charge cards for anything on the ship and some places ashore. Then an Asian woman in her early twenties approached and asked them to follow her. She seemed to know each of them by name, causing Mr. Aarons to jump a little whenever he was addressed, clearly uncomfortable with receiving the royal treatment. Their luggage had already disappeared on its way to their rooms, or cabins as they are called on ships.

Following a short walk, they reached the stern of the liner and saw the actor and her parents a hundred yards ahead of them turn to the right and board the ship. Thirty seconds later they followed, and Jesse had to let go of Leslie's hand; she was holding his so tightly out of excitement. Tom and Grace appeared to be sleepwalking behind their dark sunglasses, but in awe of the monstrous machine they were about to board. Even Mr. and Mrs. Aarons looked a tad shaken by the adventure. Jesse heard his father say to his mother, "Burke really went all-out with this adventure."

Crossing the small removable gangway and into the bowels of the ship felt like entering a sort of cathedral – or tomb: Everything changed. The cool air was dry and held the faintest hint of sea salt, diesel fuel and food, but none were at all overpowering. It was the smell of the sea their guide, Vanessa, told them. She then led the six to an elevator, explaining how they were secured by the passes recently issued. Stepping in, she pressed the button labeled "13" and the cab was whisked up through the ship, the glass exterior giving them a spectacular view of the spacious six central floors of the liner before returning to its dark tube. An electronic bell sounded, the doors opened, and Vanessa ushered her charges into a long lobby. At the far end, perhaps fifty feet away, were two fancy wooden doors. Along the sides of the lobby/corridor were more, though less ornate, doors, each numbered.

"These are the larger suites," Vanessa said, pointing to either side. Then she started down the hallway. "Behind us, towards the stern of the ship are more cabins. Here is your stateroom."

Even Leslie and Jesse were not prepared for what they were approaching. Between the two wooden doors was a gilded plaque that read:

_Royal Family Suites  
1300 – 1301_

Hearing his parents exhale and say "No!" under their breath, Jesse looked back at Tom and Grace. Both had removed their sunglasses and wore a shocked expression. Over the past month, whenever they speculated about the trip and the possibility of taking a cruise, all four had joked that having the royal suite would be "Super cool," but none had seriously believed Bill and Judy Burke would be so extravagant. Jesse clearly recalled Tom looking up the cost of such accommodations; the six of them on a weeklong cruise would cost over fifty thousand dollars. Even Leslie, more accustomed to wealth, was clearly taken aback.

Vanessa opened the port door and invited them in. As he passed his father, Jesse heard him say, "I _told_ him to keep it simple, Mary. I'm gunna punch Burke in the _wiener_ when we get home." Jesse wasn't certain the man was joking.

It took a while for this, the shock of the day, to wear off. Vanessa gave them the tour and introduced the cook and two full-time stewards assigned to their cabin. The baby grand piano, two huge flat screen HDTVs, and private Hot tub only added to the dream. Three sizable bedrooms, each with a spacious private bath, living room, dining room, kitchen, two exterior decks and a lounge with a fully stocked bar topped the suite. Vanessa gave them further information about programs and finally departed after leaving a small stack of her business cards with directions on how to contact her, day or night. When she had left, Mr. Aarons disappeared for a minute and returned with a shot of whiskey, collapsing into the sofa next to his wife.

"So this is what it's like to be filthy rich?"

Tom, having been watching Jesse's father, spoke for the first time. "Actually, Mr. Aarons, ocean liners have far larger suites because they'll be at sea for weeks...sometimes."

"Thank you, Tom," Mrs. Aarons said for her husband, who was already finishing off the ounce of whiskey. "Why don't you four go pick rooms and look around?"

Jesse and Leslie smiled at each other and raced across the living room to check the suite's details, Tom and Grace followed.

By three o'clock, everyone was settled and had calmed down some. As soon as the teens were told to be at the dining room at six sharp, Tom grabbed Jesse's arm, announced they were going to look around, and disappeared out the door before Leslie had time to give her boyfriend a counter-offer. Instead, she and Grace examined the hot tub and announced they were going to look at the pools. They made a quick change and headed out while putting on sunscreen.

Two decks below, Tom led Jesse into one of the twenty-four hour dining rooms where they found a couple hundred other passengers going through any of twenty different lines for food. The boys walked around scoping out the various fares before settling on a variety of Asian foods and tall plastic tumblers of fruit punch. At a table for two next to a window, they sat and ate.

"It'll take us a week just to explore this thing," Jesse said while he cast a suspicious eye on the spring roll he had taken.

"Ur no' ki'ing." Tom swallowed. "I want to try the wave rider..."

"And the climbing wall! It's bigger than the one at the mall in Roanoke..."

Their excited chatter went on for a while as they sampled the many meat and vegetable dishes around the dining area. True to form, Tom would point out a girl he'd like to 'get to know better' every few minutes, and even waved to a couple.

"Did you see those twins, Jess?" asked Tom excitedly at one point, pointing towards two females leaving the room. "They aren't Lisa and Carol, but..."

Jesse just laughed and shook his head.

"You know, mate..."

"Tom, please stop calling me that in public. It sounds queer."

"'Queer'? Alright, love, my old British English has pretty-much worn off anyway."

Jesse cried out, "_Ah!_" and threw a balled-up napkin across the table. Then in a completely serious tone said, "You can only say that when we're alone." Both teen dissolved into fits of laughter.

Approaching four o'clock, a ship-wide announcement reminded all visitors that they had to disembark from the _Freedom of the Seas_ at least thirty minutes before its five o'clock departure. Tom got a funny look on his face, dropped his fork, pulled his ship pass out, and jumped up.

"Come on, Jess! I can't believe...never mind."

"What?" Jesse asked lamely as his friend ran off. Shrugging, he followed as Tom ran down four flights of stairs to the Passenger Service Center on deck seven. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, grabbing Tom's arm as he searched for the shortest line.

"Jess, we're on the _Freedom of the Seas!_ Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"No. Do you want to find that actor? She's a little old for you, I think she's about twenty now."

Tom ignored Jesse and stepped up to the counter. "Hi, I'm trying to locate some friends; we got separated when we, uh, checked in. Their name is Haskell."

While the assistant looked on her computer, Jesse realized that he had forgotten all about their South Beach friends and the ship they had talked so excitedly about. _Freedom of the Seas..._ _I guess we won't be seeing much of Tom this week..._ An image came involuntarily into Jesse's consciousness. _I guess I wouldn't mind seeing more of Claire, either..._

* * *

When Jesse and Tom returned to their suite a short time later they found Mr. and Mrs. Aarons running around like excited children in their swimsuits trying to figure out how to turn on the Hot tub. The girls had gone up to look at the pools, they said, and everyone would meet at such-and-such a spot for the five o'clock departure.

The boys changed into their suits in case they wanted a quick swim before dinner and headed to the pool decks, which were three levels below their own. Crowds of passengers were everywhere, coming and going, looking for a spot to watch the ship leave port. So many were lined on the starboard side, Jesse though the ship had to be listing a couple degrees.

Two of the pools were centrally located on decks nine and ten, the forward one with dual waterslide emptying into it. There were already dozens of kids, and not a few adults, in line for the ride. Between the two pools were two large hot tubs filled with adults holding drinks and chatting madly, laughing, and acting half their age. It was difficult to tell, however, if that was good or bad. A steel drum band played loudly on the deck between the two hot tubs and pools, seemingly indifferent to the occasional splash of water. The third pool was further towards the stern and covered in case of inclement weather.

Jesse and Tom looked for the girls, but not finding them tried to locate two chairs. However, most of the deck lounge chairs were occupied, and some had small crowds of partiers around them. As they set their towels down, both heard a familiar voice. Leslie's. A dozen chairs down, hidden by a group of guys their age, Leslie and Grace lay on lounges talking to their visitors. They approached slowly, not really sure what was happening. As the girls came into view, Jesse's turned to Tom who was looking at him, too, and saw the shock on his face. The girls were wearing matching white bikinis, the ones Leslie had purchased the week before, and while modest (at least as those types of suits go) they only enhanced the natural beauty of the teens.

"Jeez, Jess..." was all Tom could say.

"They kinda look like sisters, don't they?"

"Just about..._Wow_. Do you think they need help?"

Jesse spied through the crowd again and saw his girlfriend was having no difficulty, but Grace looked a little self-conscious. Watching her, he was reminded why he had made a point of keeping his distance: She was a beautiful girl...woman...teen..._whatever!_ Just then Grace looked up and saw Jesse's blushing face and in a second sat up and started putting on a wrap. Leslie followed her friend's gaze and found Jesse and Tom watching from the outer ring of boys. She waved to them and beckoned them in. As soon as Jesse was within reach, she took his hand, sat up, and kissed him in a way that left no uncertainty about whether she was available. Jesse actually heard a couple of the guys groan in disappointment. Most of the small crowd started to disperse, some waving in a friendly way, but a couple tried to reengage Grace in conversation. She had, however, turned beet-red and was already telling Tom to take her back to the cabin. He reluctantly assented to her wish.

"Um, nice suit, Les," Jesse said. Then he laughed as more than a few teens (and older males) glanced her way while walking by. "You're popular."

"More than I expected," she replied in false immodesty. "You _really_ like it?"

Jesse felt a trap being set and only nodded. Seeing he wasn't going to be bated, Leslie lay back and patted Grace's former chair. "Pretty amazing, isn't it? The ship, I mean."

"Yeah. Did you and Grace look around?"

"A little, I was hoping to do some exploring with you, but Tom dragged you off before, well, we'll look around after dinner, ok?" Leslie was turned on her side, smiling at him, and he found it impossible to feel anything but affection for her. She had obviously been irritated by his earlier disappearance but had now waved it off. "Where did you two go?"

"To get something to eat…"

Leslie giggled. "I should have known. Did you look in the kitchen back at the cabin?"

"No."

"It's got all sorts of snacks. We also have free room service and there's a cook available to us seven by twenty-four." She looked a little guilty. "I think Dad went a bit crazy with this holiday."

"Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous: That's us. Did you see your actor friend?"

"'Friend'? Tom's the only one of us to get any reaction from her. She's around here somewhere, I'm sure." She pointed to a spot further down the pool deck. "Probably behind that group of guys."

Leslie lay back and examined the nearer pool where groups of kids were laughing at a clown, and Jesse took the opportunity to re-inspect his girlfriend's bathing suit, or more precisely, what it was covering. It had been seven months since he had seen her at the beach and he noted some subtle differences in her figure. All very pleasing. When his eyes moved upwards from her hips he saw she was smiling at him and he apologized, blushing.

"Don't apologize, Jess," she whispered, "it's flattering."

He nodded appreciatively - but continued to blush.

As five o'clock approached, Mr. and Mrs. Aarons, Tom, and a much-recovered Grace met Jesse and Leslie for the departure ceremony, such as it was. The liner blew its horn; a couple thousand streamers popped in the hot, late afternoon breeze; another few thousand hands waved goodbye to the small crowd on the dock making the ship appear like a bloated, white millipede that had tumbled on its side. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the three hundred-thirty million pound vessel with its twenty-five hundred passengers and fourteen hundred crew (more than fifteen hundred passengers under capacity) moved straight out from its berth, pirouetted a hundred-eighty degrees, and began the short trip from the Port of Miami to the Atlantic Ocean.

They were on the way.

* * *

Dinner on the liner was yet another novelty for all six Lark Creek residents. Their table of eight was rounded-out with a couple in their sixties, Marianne and Roger, who were pleasant company and had cruised extensively. When Tom voiced his indecision about which appetizer to order, Marianne told him to order both. "You can eat whatever you want, and as much as you want. Don't plan on losing weight on a cruise."

Their stories of travel were interesting, but both were a little aloof and said they seldom ate in the dining rooms after the first night or two, preferring to dine at the smaller restaurants aboard. And sure enough, they were seldom seen again on the voyage.

Following the meal, everyone returned to the suite where Vanessa had arranged to walk them through the various activities aboard ship, excursions on the islands, and other amenities their first class trip offered. It was eight before they completed looking over the options for the next twenty-four hours and as soon as their activity guide left, Tom suggested they try to find the Haskell's and do something with them. By this, in Jesse's estimation, his friend meant he would find Mel and take up where they left off at the hotel nine hours earlier.

But Mr. and Mrs. Aarons had other plans and told all four teens they were attending a show in the Palm Theater at eight-thirty, which left them just enough time to walk to the stern of the ship and find good seating. Tom grumbled to Leslie, trailing the other four, until the show started and he learned it was a comedian, and a very good one. By the time they'd left an hour later, Tom was still griping, but now because the man only gave two performances.

Exiting the theater, the teens finally ran into the Haskell family. They had seen their Virginia friends earlier and were waiting outside, filled with enough ideas of things to do to keep them busy a month. Unsurprisingly, Tom took off with Mel, allegedly heading to don suits and try the wave rider. Tim invited himself along, but let the others have a good head start. His parents gave their son an appreciative look.

Mike and Alice accepted an invitation from Jack and Mary to have some "adult drinks" in the Starlight Lounge, the highest point aboard ship. The rotating lounge gave a perfect view of everything in sight.

Grace said she was going to check out Teen Time, the section of the ship reserved exclusively for thirteen to fifteen year-olds, but Claire and Leslie begged her to join them and Jesse in the Hot tub back at the suite. She hemmed and hawed for a while before finally giving in, mainly because Jesse begged her and acted silly until she relented.

Back in their cabin, Leslie pulled out her strapless white bikini and asked Grace if this was the right time. She proposed another: "Les, that thing hides as much as a wet t-shirt. Maybe you should wear it when it's just you and Jess." Leslie was surprised by the suggestiveness of her friend, but quickly realized Grace didn't mean it to come out that way. In any event, she wore her regular white two-piece and hoped for an evening alone with her boyfriend in the near future.

By the time Claire knocked on the suite door, Leslie and Grace were already playing with the controls of the tub. Jesse answered and watched as his guest stumbled into the 'palace,' as he had started calling it. All she could say was, "Wow!"

"Yeah, that's what we said, too. The tub is over here." Jesse led her to the deck where the other girls had just entered the roiling water. They eased themselves in and sat back to relax; Leslie turned the temperature down ten degrees so they wouldn't overcook. The warmth and comfort soon had all four at ease, but Jesse noticed Leslie looked a la bit shaky.

"You ok, Les?"

She swallowed and turned his way, smiling. "Of course!"

Claire talked a lot, but Jesse didn't mind any longer. She was a nice girl and Grace seemed to have found a level of comfort with her that suggested they could enjoy mutual companionship on the cruise. This was important to him, for as much as he liked Grace he did not want her latched to Leslie and himself. So he sat, quietly listening, and enjoying the sight of three attractive girls. His eyes wandered from Leslie to Grace to Claire, and he found that far from being bored, their company was stimulating and interesting. He focused on his newest friend for a while, trying not to stare. Claire's skin was darker than the other two girls' were, though not as dark as Makayla. She was average height, looks, and build, with short dark hair and still very much in early adolescence. He tried to reconcile the girl in the Hot tub with him and the girl who had run topless out of the ocean the previous day, but the image had already faded enough that there was no lingering embarrassment when he glanced at her chest; there she was less endowed than Grace. In an odd way, it gave him a sense of security, or at least no feeling of being threatened - or tempted.

Because Leslie was sitting next to him, it was nearly impossible to look at her without being noticed, particularly when he wanted to catch a glance of her more hidden spots. Her new bikini gave him visual access to much, much more of her breasts than anything else she had worn around him. It required nothing more than a fleeting look to see the pale, fleshy signs of her approaching womanhood. At times he felt as if he was being rude, or a pervert, but she had never admonished him for looking at her; her most typical reaction was a smile. What intrigued Jesse most, however, was that the cut of her top allowed him to see more of the front of her breasts, though he could never quite make out everything, particularly areas of most recent interest to him.

Then there was Grace sitting across from him. The feet of all four were touching, but it was her feet that evoked the greatest reaction, even more so than Leslie's. And without having to hide or be sneaky, Jesse also enjoyed the view of Grace's upper torso. Though smallish, her bosom was shapely and very captivating. He buried the guilt of looking at another girl, however, and resolved to enjoy what was offered, wondering why that part of the female anatomy had become such a powerful draw to him.

About ten o'clock, Tom returned, but only Jesse noticed that something was wrong. He excused himself, wrapped a towel around his waist, and went to their room. The door was closed. He knocked and entered.

Tom was laying on his bed reading, which in itself indicated to Jesse much about his friend's state of mind.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"No wave riding?"

"Yeah, we did a little."

"How was it?"

"Oh, the _wave riding_ was fun."

Jesse sat on his bed. "But Mel wasn't?"

Tom didn't answer, but pretended to read for a couple minutes. Jesse could tell he wasn't really reading, though, just staring at one spot on the page. He tried again.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. We surfed for a while and then she wanted to go back to her cabin."

"Oh, I see. Maybe she was tired," he suggested.

"Jess, she wasn't tired, she wanted to go back to her room…with me." Tom put his book down, tired of pretending to read it.

"Oh…um, what's wrong with that?"

"Jess, she wanted to…you know."

Jesse almost laughed. "And the problem is…?"

"Shut up, Jess," Tom snapped. It was said in that tone Tom only used when he wanted to give an order. Jesse had learned long ago not to ignore it. But this time he did.

"Ok…are you _sure_ that's what she wanted?"

"Well, let me see," he started sarcastically. "We're walking down the hall, holding hands, and she asks me if I have any condoms. I don't think she wanted to blow balloons."

"No, I guess not."

A long silence passed between them during which Tom went to the bathroom, changed and got ready for bed. When he returned, he picked up the book and began to pretend to read again. Jesse gave him more time, suspecting he wanted to talk but was too proud or upset. He shed his suit and pulled on his boxers, and just in time. There was a single rap on the door and it flew open.

"Oops! Sorry, Jess," Leslie said, closing the door part of the way. "Are you coming…oh, hi Tom. You two want to come out to the Hot tub?"

Tom barely acknowledged Leslie, and Jesse simply shook his head no. Leslie shrugged, raised her eyebrows suggestively at Jesse's attire, and left to rejoin the girls.

"Almost," Tom said, his voice showing a hint of amusement.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I think she does that on purpose. Maybe I should surprise her one of these times."

"We could climb in bed together and pretend to make out."

Jesse hit him with a pillow, but laughed.

"So, what's bothering you? I kinda thought you'd, you know, like to _do it_ with Mel."

"Me too. It's like a fantasy: A girl asking me to screw her. But when she said that I felt like hurling."

"You mean you've never, um, done it…_ever_? _Whew!_ I always thought you'd be the first of us to…you know…"

Rolling over on his side, Jesse's friend flipped him the bird. "You _all_ think I'm a pervert. I can't stand that, Jess. Outside of a few times where Lisa and Care gave me a…"

"_DON'T WANNA TO KNOW!_" Jesse nearly shouted.

"…I've hardly gotten past second base."

_Which one is second base…?_ "Oh. You had us fooled."

"Quit saying that. You'll be the first, besides Barb, but that doesn't count."

"The first what?"

"Aarons, don't act so innocent. I can name five or six girls we know who would _make it _with you in a heartbeat, it you asked them."

"_WHAT?!_"

"I know you know who they are, right?"

"Well…um, Leslie, yeah…" And he shrugged in a helpless sort of way. Tom laughed and hit _him_ with a pillow.

"Leslie, Makayla, Barb, Lisa, Carol…and maybe Mel," he added sarcastically at the last second.

Jesse, feeling both intrigued and a little sick to his stomach, asked, "Who's the sixth?"

"My sister."

"Too young."

"Bullshit."

"Doesn't matter. It'll never happen."

"I know, but, it's food for the imagination, mate."

Jesse shook his head. _But Tom might be right, in a way_. Every one of those girls held some type of attraction to him. _The twins…_ Bouncy and bubbly and apparently interested in some level of deeper physical intimacy. _Barb_… She was a tiger: Aggressive and strong, but in too much pain. _Makayla_… Exotic, and probably the most emotionally appealing to him, aside from Leslie. _Grace was…_ He shuddered, again faced with the purely physical responses she induced, again he was glad she was moving away, and again he wished it had been her and not Claire who had run out of the ocean the previous day.

And lastly, _Leslie…_ His Leslie. She was the whole package, the person who offered him everything. Jesse recalled a funny old song he'd heard at the last school dance:

A little bit of Monica in my life  
A little bit of Erica by my side  
A little bit of Rita is all I need  
A little bit of Tina is what I see  
A little bit of Sandra in the sun  
A little bit of Mary all night long  
A little bit of Jessica here I am  
A little bit of you makes me your man…

_It would be easy to substitute names…_

"Aarons, what are you fantasizing about over there? My sister?" Tom slid over on his bed, moving a little further away. "Just don't start playing with yourself."

Jesse laughed and went to his suitcase. Withdrawing one of his sketchpads, he sat in a chair and began to draw. After a minute he closed his eyes and thought of the subjects. For the next hour, he worked furiously with pencils and charcoal, putting on the paper what he could so clearly picture in his mind: Leslie, Grace, and Claire. As the clock in the atrium rang eleven, he stopped and stretched. Tom walked over and looked.

"_Jesus Christ_, Jess! That's…_amazing_!"

Smiling, he tore the page out, handed it over, then slipped on his shorts.

"It's yours. I'll be back in a minute."

But he didn't come back for a long time.

When Jack and Mary returned around midnight, they panicked finding Jesse and Leslie's beds empty. The hot tub was vacant and there was no note. But Mary soon discovered the two on the port balcony, asleep in one of the lounge chairs, bundled against the cool ocean air and wrapped in each other's arms. Calling her husband, they roused the teens and each adult escorted a child to the appropriate bedroom.

When Jesse was about to climb in bed, he turned sleepily to his father and kissed his arm.

"Night, Les…"

Jack helped his son into bed. "Goodnight, Cupcake."

_A/N: The 'Punch him in the wiener' line came from the movie Juno.  
_

Revision 1.1, July, 2008


	51. Part 5: The Compensation, Part 3

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 51 – The Compensation (Part 3)**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_The Mature version of this chapter can be found in The Brink, chapter 51._

Mrs. Aarons flashed her husband a number of curious looks Monday morning at breakfast. Every few seconds he would chuckle quietly and then resume eating or sipping coffee. And at the far end of the table, Jesse and Leslie, who had just returned from jogging a couple miles around the deck, were having an animated argument, albeit a quiet one. She could not hear the topic of the disagreement except that her son repeatedly said something about not being called _Cupcake_.

Monday on the Royal Caribbean's _Freedom of the Seas_ was a cruise day and that meant no port – all entertainment was to be found aboard the ship and there was plenty to be found. Grace had planned to spend the day with Claire in _Teen Time_ and at the pools, so she disappeared shortly after breakfast. Jesse and Leslie wanted to try the wave rider and climbing wall before the crowds appeared, so they also left after a quick rinse-off.

Tom thought it best he avoid Mel and hung around the cabin watching a shipboard movie until Jesse's parents threw him out, saying he had to be out doing some activity. But instead he just went to the _Network Center,_ a room where passengers can use common computers for light business needs, and wrote some emails. His first one was to Madison Keane briefly telling her how the trip was going. He then wrote four others, including one to his father. When finished, he saw Madison had replied to him already. She sounded depressed so he looked up a funny, on-line greeting card company and sent her one with dancing penguins. She loved penguins.

Mid-morning the weather became a little stormy and the seas turned choppy. A three hundred million pound stabilized ship doesn't roll much, even in heavy seas, but Leslie quickly succumbed to violent seasickness and returned to the cabin with Jesse. He explained to his parents that she was at the top of the climbing wall when she first felt ill, though upon reflection he suspected it had started the night before. While his mother escorted the slightly green tinged teen to her room, Jesse called Vanessa and asked about getting seasickness pills. She told him there were some in the room's first aid kit and two minutes later Leslie was downing one with ginger ale. Before she had the chance to lay back, however, everything came right back up. Fortunately Mrs. Aarons was quick to grab the trash can and the bed clothes were spared. When a second attempt to keep the medicine down also failed, Jesse was sent to sick bay to fetch a patch. With this addition, Leslie soon felt better and fell asleep. Jesse cleaned himself up and sat in the room with his girlfriend, drawing her sleeping, a first for him.

Around noon, Tom ran into Tim Haskell and was beckoned to sit with him for lunch. He reluctantly agreed, and as he suspected the conversation almost immediately turned to Tim's sister. The older brother apologized for his sister and insisted she had been joking about her intentions when returning to the cabin. Tom was not convinced, however, and said the girl had a sick sense of humor. The brother agreed.

"But really, Tom, she feels terrible. Give her another chance – if you want, that is."

Tom would not commit to anything except thinking about what the brother had said, and the two ate lunch in an uneasy silence. Shortly thereafter, and though still not finished eating, Tim made a sudden exit and Tom was annoyed to see Mel plop down into her brother's chair. He felt as if the whole 'chance' meeting at lunch had been a set-up.

"Tom, I'm sorry about yesterday..."

"Yeah? Well it was a bad joke," he replied harshly, not even making eye contact. A long silence followed until, having given up. Mel started rising. "You, uh, wanna do something today, Mel?" he asked – without much enthusiasm.

"Sure…if you really want to. I hear there's a wild game of bingo in the theatre at one. Want to go?"

Looking up finally, Tom saw Mel was smirking. He said no, and besides, he hated bingo.

"How 'bout Put-Put?"

Mel flopped back into the chair dramatically and in a relieved tone said she would love to.

* * *

The rough weather passed late Monday afternoon and Leslie immediately felt better. She and Jesse decided to head back to the upper decks, try the waterslide and hang out at the pool for a while, but Leslie's stomach protested the slide so they sat around the pool and talked.

Jesse was again forced to deal with every other male passenger staring at his girlfriend as they walked by - and the jealousy it caused. He sometimes wondered if he would ever master it. What ultimately annoyed him the most, however, was that some of the guys their age seemed genuinely amiable and he would have welcomed their company. But suspicious of their intent, he did not make them feel welcome. It did not occur to him that this might have hurt or annoyed Leslie.

At one point they saw Tom and Mel walk by, but neither of them seemed terribly surprised by the reconciliation. Jesse had told Leslie about his conversation with Tom the night before, and she had even bet him they would get back together. "She just didn't seem like that kind of girl, Jess," Leslie said. Apparently she was right.

Grace and Claire also appeared around five o'clock and reminded them to be ready for dinner at six. They then disappeared, giggling and flirting with a couple boys. Jesse was silently relieved.

Immediately following dinner Jesse's parents called everyone together to talk about their stop in Puerto Rico the next afternoon. Vanessa had dropped off some information about tours, shopping and other activities. But Tom and Grace begged off, saying the Haskells had offered to take them into San Juan for dinner and shopping. Mr. and Mrs. Aarons saw no problem with this, called Mike and Alice to confirm the arrangements, and asked Jesse and Leslie what they wanted to do. Leslie said anything at all involving solid ground would be excellent - her dinner wasn't sitting well. After looking at the pamphlets, the four decided on a motor tour of the city and surrounding area followed by a picnic on the beach. The weather was predicted to be cool, so snorkeling and swimming were put off a day. And the ship left at eleven in the evening, so there would be plenty of time for all they planned or came up with. Mr. Aarons then made the arrangements.

With the next day's schedule settled, Tom pulled Jesse aside and asked if he had any plans that evening. Jesse said no and was told to meet him and Mel, with Leslie, outside the casino at eight, "Dress-up a little," he added as he disappeared into their room to change.

"What was that about?" Leslie asked, affixing another seasickness patch behind her ear.

"No idea, but we're meeting him and Mel outside the casino in a half hour." Leslie groaned and went to change. When she next saw Jesse, by the cabin door, he told her Tom had already left to get Mel and would meet them at the pre-arranged location.

Just before eight, the four stood outside the casino where two friendly-looking bouncers eyed them warily. Unfazed, Tom smiled suspiciously at his friends, took Mel's hand, and led them all around to the other side of the ship and the entrance to the _Starlight Lounge,_ one of the many nightclub/bars on the vessel. As Jesse was about to stop him short, Tom held up his hand.

"_Eighteen or above, Tom_. We can't get in there," Leslie said.

"Got your pass?" he asked Jesse, ignoring the protest. "Good. Hold Leslie's hand and if anyone approaches us just flash it. I did a little checking with Vanessa. It seems they're pretty lax in certain places, as long as we don't drink alcohol," he winked, "and these royal passes are insurance. Besides, we all look eighteen...or almost." He also said there was entertainment that evening, _adult_ _entertainment_. The girls smiled and Jesse blushed, but they all agreed to give it a try.

In fact, the dim light made all four teens look old enough, and as happened, no one was paying much attention to any reasonably adult-looking passengers. Tom led them to a spot where he had earlier scoped out a table in the dimmest lighting, but it was taken. Jesse, ever-worried about discovery, suggested they leave, but Leslie was enjoying the adventure, and being on the lower decks of the ship made its slight roll virtually unnoticeable. They ended up with ring-side seats around the dance floor where a man and woman – Bob and Fran - were setting up props for the entertainment.

Shortly before the start of the show, Tom disappeared for a few minutes, returning with four sodas. Then he arched his eyes at Jesse. "Drink it slowly, I don't want you embarrassing us."

Confused, Jesse took a sip and nearly choked. There was something far stronger than ginger ale in the cups. Leslie and Mel, seeing this reaction, took smaller tastes and just smiled at their bold friend. Then the show started.

Tom's information about 'adult entertainment' was only partly reliable, they soon discovered. The activities were primarily concerned with pitting the males against the females in fun games of skill and knowledge. There were some suggestive questions, and an occasional passenger who had had too much to drink, but on the whole there was more laughter than anything else. Fran seemed almost as embarrassed by some of the repartee as Jesse. But the four teens had a good time, slowly drinking what Tom later told them were _Vanilla Ales_ – ginger ale and vanilla rum. And he managed to procure two rounds undetected.

As the evening wore on, and the games became rowdier, Tom took a chance to visit the bar one last time and returned with a third round for everyone. But he also explained there was no way he would be able to do it again. "I had a guy looking at me the whole time, so don't any of you start acting funny." But the bartender _had_ suspected Tom, not of being underage himself, but of supplying the drinks to minors, so he gave him the last round with only ginger ale and vanilla flavoring, guessing correctly that the inexperienced 'adults' would not wish to embarrass themselves in front of the crowed room, (or that if they all _were_ of age they would complain). His first guess was correct, too, for both Mel and Leslie were, after two rounds, feeling no pain and laughing more than usual.

Tom, who had a little experience with drinking, immediately realized what the bartender had done. But far from being annoyed, he decided to play a joke on the man, keeping in the spirit of the evening. He found a cocktail napkin and wrote a name on it with a message for the bartender to page the person, then he passed it down the crowded lounge with the verbal instructions.

The final activity of the evening was being arranged on the floor when the two hundred or so passengers saw the bartender bring a note to Fran who was standing in the center of the dance floor. She read it and promptly made an announcement that _Herb Utt_ was to join his party at the Breakers Dining Room. Most of the people, Jesse included, didn't really pay attention to the woman until she said louder a second time, asking, "_Is_ _Herb Utt here?_" The room erupted in laughter and the scarlet-faced Fran flipped-off the bartender. "There's always one in the crowd," Bob announced while his partner recovered. Jesse, still not catching the joke, looked at Leslie but she was staring at the ceiling. He turned to Tom, who was laughing hysterically, and saw Mel hitting him with a _you naughty boy_ expression.

The final series of games again pitted the males against the females. Tom joined in one of the trivia segments, as he looked old enough to pass for eighteen, though his answers left much to be desired and the men lost that round. So with one competition remaining, and the men holding a commanding 100 to 20 point lead over the women, the last event began. The single winner could earn between 50 and 100 points – by flying a paper airplane across the room. In other words, the women had to have the best flight to have any chance of winning.

Five of each sex volunteered to construct one paper craft each, and one by one, each failed to fly it even the minimum distance required for any points. With one slightly inebriated and husky woman remaining, the females' only chance at winning was on the line. The MCs started to interview 'Marge' and found she had plenty to say without their assistance.

"Win or lose, _boys_, this one is for all of you. I've christened my airplane _firecracker,_ and it's gonna _blow_ _you_ away!"

The crowd howled in delight and amusement as the woman threw her gender's last chance…and it made a perfect flight all the way across the dance floor, ending in the bartender's hands. The women all jumped up and clapped and screamed with joy, they had won the competition. Tom and Jesse gave each other shrugs.

"Jess, let's go find some quiet place and make-out with the girls," Tom leaned over and suggested with a smile. "They've been drinking - and might even feel bad for us losing."

Jesse had never been into 'public necking,' as he called it, but he was just tipsy enough to give it a try. And looking at Leslie he was pretty sure she might have the same level of interest. The four jumped up, albeit a little wobbly, and headed for deck seven and the seclusion afforded by the lifeboats. Hand-in-hand, the girls trailed the boys, giggling, until they were swung around and found themselves lip-locked, their backs to the railing. Jesse had to consciously muster enough coherence to be sure he was with Leslie – he wouldn't have put it past Tom to switch the girls on him…_not that that was such a terrible idea_. But he was too familiar with his best friend to be fooled, and knew – even in the dark – who he was kissing.

After a while of lip-numbing intimacy – or alcohol – no one was quite sure which, Mel suggested they go back to her cabin for more privacy. Shocking even himself, Jesse laughed and said he was hoping she would suggest that. Leslie giggled a little loudly and Tom simply nodded with wide eyes. Five minutes later, the four teens were locked in the small cabin, each couple lounging on one of the beds, and returning to their previous activity. Mel, unseen to a very preoccupied Jesse and Leslie, began to unbutton her top and then turned the lights off. But that was as far as anyone got. A knock on the door, followed by Claire's voice, ended the private party and everyone jumped up, trying desperately to straighten their hair and clothes in case Mr. or Mrs. Haskell were outside the door too.

As it happened, only Claire and Grace were waiting to enter, and it was painfully obvious both had a good idea what had been taking place. Jesse and Leslie slipped out and past the younger girls; Tom came next, followed by Mel who was still trying fruitlessly to realign the buttons of her blouse. In the elevator they stopped to gather their wits.

"Where we going, Tommy?" Mel asked, finally fixing her buttons between fits of giggles. Leslie, flushed, was panting and whispered into Jesse's ear.

"We can probably use the hot tub in our suite…if you want."

Slightly more sober now, Mel pointed out that she didn't have a bathing suit. Then she burst out laughing when Tom whispered his own suggestion in her ear.

Arriving at the suite, the four teens ran into Jesse's parents as they were heading out for a late night rendezvous with Mike and Al Haskell. Enough time had passed now since the last drink that, aside from a couple minor silly laughs, the four _appeared_ sober. They said they were going to use the hot tub, never considering whether Mr. and Mrs. Aarons had noticed that Mel didn't have a suit.

But once again, any plans the four might have had were spoiled by the reappearance of Claire and Grace who had the same idea – and suits. In fact, Clair pulled her sister aside and handed her one, too.

"We thought you guys would come up here and I figured you would need this."

The four girls went into Leslie and Grace's cabin to change while Tom and Jesse walked dejectedly to their own.

"I though we might've had a treat tonight. I gotta talk to my sister."

"Yeah, please do," Jesse agreed, then burst into laughter. "Fat chance we'd've had. My parents would probably have returned."

Tom shrugged and then shivered as he put on his cold, damp suit. He had forgotten there was a small dryer off the kitchen.

"There's always tomorrow," Jesse pointed out.

Flopping on his back on the bed, Tom said in a voice of wonder, "God, I'd love to get my hands on Mel. The twins are nice, but…"

"You looked like you were doing ok before Grace and Claire showed up. Isn't that why Mel turned the lights off?"

"I was trying to unhook her freaking _bra_," he laughed, then pointed to his chest. "It hooked in the front."

"Huh?"

"Some bras hook in the front, some in the back. Didn't you know that?"

"I – I don't know. Never really thought of it."

"There you go, Jess, something else for you to learn with Les."

Smiling at the idea, Jesse grabbed two towels as they headed out to the hot tub. The spa was just large enough to hold six adults, so the six teens had plenty of room. Now mostly sober, but still a little silly, Jesse, Leslie, Tom and Mel first tried to drive the younger girls away by restarting their under-the-lifeboat activities, but neither budged. Claire went so far as to say that she and Grace should have a turn with the boys – a suggestion that made Tom's sister blush brightly and duck under the water. When she surfaced thirty seconds later Claire asked if she'd seen anything worthwhile.

"Jess…maybe. My brother? Nothing at all."

With that barb, Grace and Claire were finally accepted and the other four discontinued their attempts at intimidation by intimacy. After a while, both younger girls made a point of telling their older siblings and friends that they knew there had been drinking. Tom tried to brush them off, fearing blackmail, but Claire had something else in mind and told her sister that they wanted to be included the next time they visited the lounge. Knowing the two girls could never pass for eighteen, Mel was able to placate them with a promise to take her and Grace out _somewhere_ on one of the islands. As this was probably the best that could be expected, they agreed.

Around midnight, Mel and Claire went home and Grace and Tom to bed. Jesse and Leslie changed and met on the starboard deck with a blanket where they snuggled and bundled against the cool night air. The consequences of their earlier drinking were making both feel a little ill and they lay quietly together, fighting the breeze uncovering their feet and listening to the rhythmic sounds of the ocean pounding the side of the cruise ship. From below they could hear the occasional voice of other passengers, from above the screech of gulls and terns.

"Are you having a good time, Jess?"

"Mm-hm. You?"

"Yes, but I'm really looking forward to being off the ship the next three days."

"Still feeling a little nauseated? I can get you another patch."

"I'll be ok. Besides, I don't want you to move, I'm finally getting warm." Both fell asleep shortly thereafter, both wondering why love became _more_ complicated as time went by and not less.

When Mr. and Mrs. Aarons returned around one in the morning they did not panic finding Leslie and Jesse's beds empty: They were again sleeping together on the balcony.

"Should we leave them here tonight, Jack?"

"No, it might get too cold later. I'll take _Cupcake_ to his bed, you get _Sweetie Pie_." And smiling at his own joke, helped his wife untangle the two teens.

* * *

Jesse's parents wanted everyone to have breakfast together the next morning. As the two adults and four kids stumbled into the kitchen, the three older teens had to fight the effects of their illegal imbibing only eleven hours earlier. Jesse and Tom were best prepared, being of a larger size and having drunk a fair amount of water before bed to ward off the dehydration that accompanied alcohol consumption. Leslie looked pale and shaky, but Mr. and Mrs. Aarons assumed she was having another bout of seasickness and suggested she put on a new patch. Slightly green, the girl looked at Jesse pleadingly before putting her head down on the table with a thump. He ran off for more medicine.

Plans for day four needed to be addressed since the ship arrived at St. Thomas by eight o'clock Wednesday morning and the two groups would be separate until late that Tuesday night. The weather forecast for St. Thomas was excellent so tentative plans called for meeting at nine and going onto the island for a day at the beach. There was a large variety of water activities not far from the anchorage so everyone noted which activities they were interested in and Jack contacted Vanessa while his wife and the teens prepared for the day.

Back in their room, the boys flopped onto their beds and talked for a while about the night before. Jesse admitted that he'd had fun, but both agreed that the quantity of alcohol consumed was too much.

"Yeah, Mel doesn't have too many inhibitions with a couple in her," Tom laughed. But in reality he was a little worried. Had anything happened, or if they had been discovered, he and Mel would have been the ones responsible - and pay the price. "Let's not do that again, Jess," he finally said, and Jesse agreed, then got up to take a shower.

Half an hour later, Jesse lay on his bed reading a brochure about San Juan as Tom ran out to find Mel and her brother for a pre-arranged surfing lesson on the wave rider. A moment later, Leslie called in asking if she could use their shower, Grace was hogging hers she said. Jesse told her to help herself. When finished, Leslie ran out, wrapped in a towel, to get ready for her own morning plans with Grace and Claire.

Jesse didn't see Leslie again until lunch and spent the balance of the morning sketching and thinking. His sponsored drawing lessons had ended in March, but he was comfortable with his progress and decided against continuing with the expensive instructions. While he drew, his thoughts flitted back and forth between his art and the activities the night before with his girlfriend. Trying to understand and find equilibrium in their physical relationship was becoming more difficult. He could logically sit back (now) and evaluate what was desired versus what was proper, but logical thought broke down when he was close to Leslie.

* * *

The afternoon and evening in San Juan were delightful for all the Lark Creek travelers, but it was, perhaps, Mr. & Mrs. Aarons who were the most affected. Neither had been out of the country before and even the simple process of showing their new passports was a thrill. (Puerto Rico was a U.S. territory, but required official documentation to enter and exit.) Now an old-hand at this process, Jesse watched his parents acting like kids the first time their passports were stamped at the San Juan customs house. And throughout the day he would see one parent or the other taking out the small booklet and looking at the green and black stamp with ill-disguised satisfaction.

Their tour around the city and part of the island lasted three hours and returned them to customs near dinner time. The four then walked to the nearby restaurant Vanessa had contacted and gave their name to the hostess. Five minutes later they were again in a van, this time headed to an isolated beach a half-hour out of town where they were to dine and spend the evening. Upon arrival, Mr. Aarons immediately sensed the long arm of Bill Burke.

Under the palm trees, a large dining fly had been set up; inside a cook prepared a number of local dishes from obviously fresh ingredients, including conch and other sea foods. A picnic table and large blanket on the sand offered two different venues for eating, and a small portable bar had its own tender, smiling and ready to take drink orders. As might be expected, the adults gravitated to the table and the teens to the blanket, all carrying fruity drinks and plates of exotic fruits as appetizers. In hushed voices they spoke to their partners in surprisingly similar ways.

The evening wore on and dinner was served as the sun set. Torches appeared as they dined and a two-man band strolled into their private area playing a portable steel drum and singing. Jesse looked back at his parents and saw they were leaning across the table holding hands, much like Leslie's parents would do, concentrating completely on each other: It made him feel very happy. This was a scene he never in a million years would have envisioned a few years earlier. His father was a changed man, and his family was – in his estimation – becoming _almost_ normal.

And the music played on.

With the last of the sun's light nearly disappeared below the horizon, the time was rapidly approaching when they would have to return to the ship. But not quite yet. Jesse had been laying on the blanket with his arm around Leslie watching the stars when he turned and saw his parents dancing. Leslie looked, too. "They look like they're on a honeymoon, don't they?"

Jesse nodded. "It's a romantic place, I guess."

Laughing quietly as to not disturb Jesse's parents, Leslie asked, "And what do you know about being romantic?"

"Hey! I know it when I see it. But I'm a guy; it's up to the girl to initiate that kind of stuff."

"What? Jesse Aarons, you better learn quick that it goes both ways. And besides," Leslie huffed, "you've done pretty well."

"Me? You gotta be kidding. When was the last time I did something romantic?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, besides _kissing_ and _hugging_ and _holding my hand_? How about the last couple nights when we fell asleep together on the deck? Those were all very romantic...Don't you think so?"

Preferring not to think of romance at all, he hedged. "Um, ok. I guess I just don't think of them like that."

"Then what's your idea of being romantic, Mr. Jesse Aarons?"

_Ugh!_ Shrugging, Jesse sat up and thought. It only took a couple seconds. "Here, give me your hand – _and promise not to laugh_."

Leslie obeyed, curious about what Jesse was about to do or say. But she found herself more than shocked and delighted when her boyfriend pulled her to her feet and said, "Dance?" It was overdramatic in the worse way, especially for Jesse, but Leslie loved it nonetheless and they moved into each other's arms for the few remaining minutes on the beach. When the music ended and Mr. Aarons cleared his voice, it was time to go, but there was one other thing Jesse wanted to do. He embraced Leslie warmly and whispered _I love you_ into her ear. She responded by holding him even tighter. "Not too bad, Aarons. You're learning," said Leslie as she let go.

The trip back to the docks was quick and quiet. The moment they stepped on the boat Leslie felt a queasiness return and threaten to bring up all the strange foods she had eaten earlier. She and Jesse stopped at sick bay, which was right next to the deck four entryway, and picked up more seasickness patches. By the time they reached the cabin, it had started to work.

"No falling asleep on the deck tonight, you two," Mrs. Aarons said, hugging both teens affectionately. As she and her husband walked to their cabin, Jesse and Leslie shared a knowing look. It was quite obvious neither adult would be out of their cabin until morning. The click of the room door's lock confirmed it.

"I guess we should get to bed, Les."

Sorely tempted to ask if that was an invitation, Leslie instead nodded, kissed Jesse long and passionately, and said goodnight.

"Hey, Jess, have a good day?" asked Tom as soon as he had closed the bedroom door.

"Excellent! You?"

"Amazing. I wish we were moving closer to the Mel's family, that for sure." Sighing deeply, Tom flopped back onto his bed.

Jesse sat on the edge of his bed, pealing off his clothes in preparation for a shower to rinse off. He looked long and hard at his friend, and shook his head.

"What?"

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Jump around from girl to girl like that? You're dating Carol...or Lisa – whoever - and here you are getting friendly with the first girl you meet on our trip."

Tom smiled. "No, the first girl I met was a hooker. And what do you care? I told you before, you could have a half-dozen of the best girls back home."

"Right, _Jesse Aarons, the Lark Creek god of love. Ha, ha, ha_. That's me alright."

"You mock me," said Tom with a falsely serious timbre. "Some day, when you and Leslie break up, you'll find comfort elsewhere."

Laughing, Jesse shook his head and went to the shower. It wasn't until the water was running that he leaned against the wall and thought seriously about Tom's comment. That same elephant Judy Burke and Mary Aarons had been running into recently was now hogging the small bath with him.

Soaping and rinsing off quickly, Jesse pulled on his boxers, shorts, brushed his teeth and returned to the bedroom.

"Where you going?"

"To see Les."

Seconds later Jesse tapped on the girl's bedroom door; hearing no answer he opened it quietly and slipped in. In the darkened cabin he felt with his foot for the end of Leslie's bed and then leaned over and asked, "Can I join you for a while?" Hearing a muffled groan he conveniently interpreted as a yes, he began to climb into the bed next to her.

"_Jesse?_"

"Huh?"

A thump followed by a blood-curdling scream filled the cabin and the once horizontal body he was next to jumped up and pushed him on the floor.

"_JESSE?_" Leslie cried out louder, then, "_Grace_, be quiet!"

"_Grace?_" Jumping up himself, Jesse tripped backwards over a bag on the floor and landed awkwardly on one of the chairs. Dim light filtered in as the bedroom door swung open.

"What the hell's going on in here? You ok, Gracie?" Tom asked.

"_NO!_ I mean, yes. Jesse, what were you doing here?"

With the light, his error was clear to see. Jesse looked at Leslie standing in the bathroom doorway, her hand over her mouth stifling a laugh: Grace was in Leslie's bed.

"I was…I was…" Jesse stuttered, pointing at Grace.

"Yes, I want to hear this, too," Mr. Aarons voice sounded from behind Tom. Jesse looked to the door again and saw his scowling father's face appear. He was standing in his underwear.

"She…Grace…Leslie was…that was _her_ bed…" he continued to plead uselessly. Grace was now beginning to laugh.

Tom turned to Mr. Aarons and said lightly, "See, it's ok, Jesse wasn't trying to get in bed with Leslie."

Jack Aarons wasn't amused. "Jesse, get you ass into your own room. _Now_." Then he turned and walked away.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Leslie started to explain between giggles. "Grace and I switched beds, hers was too firm. You couldn't have known."

"Uh-huh, right," Tom chuckled and headed back to his room.

Untangling his arm from the handle of the chair, Jesse got up and silently left the room. When the door was closed the girls started laughing quietly.

"I hadn't thought of _that_ benefit of switching beds, Les. Maybe we should switch again and see what happens."

"You're lucky I came out of the bathroom just then. I'd hate to have heard your scream if Jesse had gotten bold and grabbed you – uh, somewhere."

Grace gave her friend a impish grin. "How do you know? I might have stayed quiet."

"True…"

* * *

All day Wednesday was spent in St. Thomas. The Virginians and their new Ohio friends spent the morning on a short bus tour of Charlotte Amalie and looking through the older parts of the city. Following lunch and a quick trip back to the _Freedom of the Seas_ to change, the families headed to a local beach for snorkeling and a long lay in the sun. Vanessa had again outdone herself in making preparations for the day, and the corner of the beach they used was quiet and not lacking in wandering musicians, drink vendors and a number of parasols with lounge chairs and blankets. Mr. and Mrs. Aarons found themselves more than a little embarrassed by the attention given them, but Mike and Alice Haskell told them not to worry, they were quite delighted to share the experience.

The real surprise of the day arrived at two o'clock that afternoon when a taxi pulled up to the curb next to the beach. Tim Haskell, who had been acting fidgety all day, ran up to the car and met the actress none had seen on the cruise since their departure. A large man, a bodyguard Jesse reasoned, also exited the cab and stood discreetly away under a palm tree. Tim escorted the young woman, who was about his age, over to his family and friends, introducing her to everyone as Julie Summers. When the presentations were complete they went for a walk on the beach.

"Rich and famous," Mr. Haskell sighed. "We're in the company of the rich and famous. It's almost as good as being wealthy and well-known ourselves, eh, Jack?"

"Wouldn't know, Mike. Ain't never be neither."

"Oh, poo, Jack. You got it where it counts," Mary said playfully.

When Tim and Julie returned, everyone went snorkeling again. Although Jesse and Leslie had more experience, Grace was the best at it. Being a swimmer, she was completely comfortable with being in the water and spent time with Julie, who had never snorkeled and had a severe confidence problem in the ocean. But Grace was able to help her through her initial fears, and by the time the actress finished she was breathless and wide-eyed. "I've never seen such beautiful things," she exclaimed over and over. And although Julie wanted to go back in, it was time to start packing up and return to the ship.

Leslie finally had the opportunity to talk to the young star on the ride back to the dock. As soon as the older girl heard Leslie was in her high school musical and attending an acting camp that summer she opened up and told of her first experiences in Hollywood. The information gave Leslie a sense of calm about the summer adventure, except being away from Jesse for two weeks.

Back at the boat, the ever-expanding crowd of friends separated into two groups – adults and kids – while waiting in line to re-board. Tim and Julie looked torn between which set to join, but Tom wisely told them to go with the adults and make sure they didn't plan anything boring for the next day.

"And speaking of tomorrow," Tom said discreetly after a minute, "St. Maarten is _the_ place to go for, _ahem_, C.O. beaches." When Jesse gave him a questioning look, he clarified, "Clothing optional."

"_Tommy!_" Grace said, shaking her head.

"Is he _always_ like this?" Mel asked, though clearly not as put-out as Tom's sister.

"YES!" Jesse and Leslie answered together. Everyone laughed.

"Sorry, Tom, I have plans with Jess," added Leslie, glancing at Grace. "I want to show him something."

"Yeah? Well go to the beach with Mel and me and you can show him all you want." Laughing aloud at his own joke, Tom winked at the older Haskell girl; Mel blushed.

"You are _so_ not going to do that, are you, Mel?" her sister asked.

"I recall hearing that you took a less-than-fully-clothed dip in Miami."

"Well, I don't have much to show off, do I?" _You have enough_, Jesse recalled. "Besides," Mel continued, "Tom will probably be too embarrassed to do anything but lay on his stomach." This brought yet another round of laughter.

"Yeah? We'll see. This is _virgin_ territory for you, too. It will be interesting to see if you have the guts." Smiling triumphantly, Tom put his arm around Mel's shoulder and said more quietly, "We can cancel at any time. It's ok."

"Hmm," was her only answer.

Another show in the Palm Theater that evening followed dinner. This time Tom was more game for the entertainment and _formally_ escorted Mel away before the others, much to the amusement of her parents. Walking to the show, Jesse heard Mr. and Mrs. Haskell tell _his_ parents they thought Melissa had started dating a boy back in Ohio, and couldn't understand her behavior. Listening carefully, he wondered if his parents would spill the beans about Tom. They did, but added their observation that, "Teens date that way now. Besides, Tom's family is moving shortly, so his current girlfriend knows it's a temporary thing."

"Jack, Mary," Al began, pulling the other two adults over to the side in a hushed voice. "They want to go out on their own tomorrow. Do you think we should let them?" Unfortunately, upon receiving a stern look from his father, Jesse had to move on and didn't hear the answer. It was nearly show time when the four adults rejoined them in the theater.

The performance that evening was a one man variety show staring Bobby Curls, a well known comic. Mixing humor, tricks, and more humor, the hour long event was very entertaining...except for one aspect. Shortly after it began, a very drunk, very large woman in the front row began heckling the entertainer. At first it was funny, Jesse noticed – the woman was absurdly looped and even her husband had difficulty keeping her quiet. On stage, Bobby teased the woman mercilessly whenever she made a comment to him, and even the woman's husband joined in the laughter. But after thirty minutes the woman had used up the entertainer's patience and it was clear he was getting annoyed that she had not been removed. Finally, after the drunk woman blurted out the punch line of one of his jokes, Curls put his hands on his hips and waited for the room to be silent. It only took a few seconds, then he said, "Look lady, I'm trying to do a show here, so leave me alone...I don't jump on _your_ bed when you're working."

The audience roared, Curls bowed, and the husband finally escorted his wife out of the theater to the applause of all present. Jesse looked at Mr. Haskell, who Mel had said was vehemently opposed to public drunkenness, and saw him unsuccessfully stifling a smile.

Though everyone was tired from the past two days of activity, no one was ready to call it an evening. Tim escorted Julie to her room so she could let her family know she would be out longer. Her bodyguard followed at a tolerable distance. They picked up bathing suits and headed to the hot tubs by the pools. The five teens decided to visit _Teen Time _for a while and ended up staying up until eleven o'clock playing Guitar Hero and arcade games, ending with a late run for pizzas. They just made their midnight curfew.

"Gracie," Tom called to his sister, "be sure to let Jess know which bed you'll be in tonight."

The girls laughed. And it did not matter, Jesse was too tired for anything but sleep, or so he thought. Tom ended up talking for almost an hour, a very interesting hour, Jesse thought.

"Your parents said Mel and I can go out on our own tomorrow. You and Les want to meet us at the beach?"

"No...well, yes, but you two go ahead." Then Jesse smiled. "Get me a couple pictures of Mel, ok?"

"Ha! I knew it. You _are_ corruptible, Aarons."

"Nah, just curious."

Tom lay back on his bed and was silent for a minute. "Doesn't matter. Mel said if we _do_ go I wasn't allowed to bring the camera."

"Yeah, and Les talks more than she thinks some times. She doesn't dare do _that_ in public places."

The reference to the Miami Paparazzi made Tom frown. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Too bad for you."

"It's not like that, Tom."

"Like what?"

"I'm not trying to put us in that position."

"I know, Jess," Tom said with a trace of genuine understanding. "You're too Catholic."

Jesse shrugged. "Maybe."

Another long pause followed. The next sound Jesse heard was Tom snoring.

* * *

"Leslie?"

The female voice from her partly opened bedroom door made Leslie jump. She was hoping Jesse would stop by, but it was his mother.

"I'm awake, Mrs. Aarons."

"Leslie, would you come out here, please? I need to speak with you." Half a minute later the two were sitting at the dining room table. "What are you and Jess doing tomorrow?"

"We really hadn't made any definite plans, Mrs. Aarons. Maybe the beach in the morning, before it gets too hot, then a walk around the town."

The answer seemed to relax Mary Aarons.

"Leslie, Jesse's father and I don't want you two visiting any, uh, clothing optional beaches. Especially if _you_ plan to…you know, go optional." Red in the face, Mrs. Aarons was unusually and uncommonly embarrassed and stopped to think. Leslie's eyes widened as the words registered, but she did not have an opportunity to say anything. "Sweetheart, please be very careful with…Please don't think that it's ok to…Jesse's father and I don't think he's ready to take that step with you. Do you understand, Leslie?"

She did, and stuttered through what she fervently hoped were her final words on the subject. "Yes ma'am, I do. Jesse and I t-talked about it…" Then her focus seemed to shift, and for the briefest moment a smile lit the young blonde's face. "It's hard sometimes, Mrs. Aarons, but I promised Jess to, eh, you know, not push him."

It was clear to Mary that Leslie was both mortified and exhausted. She gave her a quick hug and sent her back to bed saying, "Leslie, we all love you."

The teen smiled tiredly and returned to her room. She was asleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Revision 1.1, August, 2008


	52. Part 5: The Compensation, Part 4

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 52 – The Compensation (Part 4)**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_This is the TEEN rated version of chapter 52. If you want the MATURE  
__version, please read the corresponding chapter in THE BRINK._

When Jesse woke Thursday morning, he was surprised to see Tom sitting on the edge of his bed, fidgeting nervously with his backpack. The soon-to-be sixteen year old, usually calm, cool and collected, gave every sign of being in a panic. Jesse watched him for a minute before speaking; when he did, Tom jumped.

"What's wrong with you this morning? Are we docked yet?"

"_Crap_, Jess, don't scared me like that," Tom blurted out, nearly falling off the bed and on to the floor. Just then the ship lurched slightly. "Yeah, I'd say we're docked now. See you later."

"Hang on. What's wrong? Is Mel ok?"

"Yeah," he replied - a little too quickly.

"Bull. What's going on? Sit down," he ordered. Tom did.

"Last night she told me she was going to do it."

"_Do what?_"

"You know," he pulled up his t-shirt revealing his chest, "at the beach..."

Sitting up, Jesse scratched his head and rubbed his face. "_Oh_. So what? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yeah," Tom answered with little conviction.

"Right. Then do something else..."

"I feel like I'm corrupting her. Like Terri Keane."

Jesse sighed. "Tom, she wasn't corrupt, she was abused, and by her parents, not you."

"I know, I mean with the pictures and all that. Maybe I _am_ a pervert."

Not knowing what to say, Jesse remained silent. Tom did, too. After a few minutes their phone rang. Suspecting it was Mel, Jesse answered. "Hi...yeah, he's just being slow...sure, I'll tell him...have fun today...bye." Placing the phone back on the cradle, Jesse knew he needed to push his friend. "Tom, Mel will be up here in a few minutes. Whatcha going to do?"

"Hide?"

"No way. Just go and have fun. You don't have to look if it bothers you."

That suggestion brought forth an amused grunt. "I guess. Ok, see you this afternoon." With his dilemma still obviously unresolved, the older teen got up and headed for the door.

"Hey, why don't we meet for lunch at that sandwich place Vanessa told us about. If you're still uncomfortable we can all do something together."

"Ok," replied Tom more eagerly, and obviously expecting to need the assistance.

Jesse scribbled out the name and address of the sandwich shop. Tom took it, shoved it into his backpack, and with a wave left the room. Jesse got up, brushed his teeth, dressed, and went to Leslie and Grace's room to walk with them to breakfast. He didn't make it that far, however, as the girls were in the living room. Grace was helping Leslie review her lines for the musical which was only a few weeks away.

"Sorry, Jess," Leslie said, waving from across the room. "I haven't looked at this stuff for a week. Mr. Stamper will kill me if I come home and miss a bunch of lines."

Jesse nodded and went to the kitchen. Grabbing some orange juice and a banana, he sat and watched the girls. It only took them twenty minutes to finish, then they left for the restaurant. Returning at nine, Jesse - and more so Leslie - were annoyed to learn that Tim and Julie had 'suddenly' shown an interest in joining them for the morning. And while he wasn't _certain_, Jesse _was_ suspicious of meddling by his parents: Leslie had told him the gist of the conversation with his mother the night before. But even more than the perceived lack of trust, what bothered Jesse and Leslie most was the fact that Julie's presence meant a bodyguard and a small army of photographers would very likely ruin any chance at privacy.

As nine approached, the actress, her guard named Joe, Tim, Jesse and Leslie bid farewell to the parents and exited the boat. Julie was somewhat disguised with amber sunglasses and a scarf around her head, and the four were able to make it through Philipsburg customs with no apparent problems. Then catching a taxi, they journeyed up the east coast to Dawn Beach and ran off to rent snorkeling equipment. By ten o'clock all were enjoying one of the best spots on the island for underwater marine life. Julie, again, could hardly be dragged from the water when the mandatory break-period whistle sounded at eleven, and she was even more reluctant to leave the ocean when she saw a group of photographers gathering in the parking lot. Tim threw his towel over her head and pretended to dry her hair, but it was too late. The next time they looked up, five men and two women were trotting their way carrying assorted video and still photography equipment. Julie made a disgusted sound as her bodyguard fruitlessly tried to keep the pests at bay. Then they noticed Leslie. Tim and Jesse grimaced at each other, shaking their heads; no one had any backup plan.

"How did they find me so easily?" griped Julie.

"You're too pretty to hide, Jules," Tim said. Julie, however, was not in the mood for a compliment and looked like she might push her friend away as he tried to apologize.

But Jesse had another idea and told the others to wait for him. Sprinting off towards the row of shops and vendors he returned shortly, but with a glum face. The four huddled out of earshot from the photographers as Jesse told of his idea. "But they don't accept the ship passes for payment. Sorry."

Julie, however, was not so easily discouraged and told them to gather their things. As they did, her guard tried to discover her plan, but she refused to tell him. Two minutes later they were at the rental shop for jet skis where Julie used a credit card to rent two machines for the day. Then quietly saying something to the shop manager, Jesse noticed her slip the man a one hundred dollar bill. He took it greedily and called for two of his employees to get life vests and the machines. Before Jesse knew, they were on the jet skis, he with Tim and Leslie behind Julie. Back on the beach, the bodyguard and photographers argued with the rental manager, but his reply, though not audible, was perfectly clear: We won't have any more machines ready for a while. The hundred dollars had done its work.

As soon as the four were away from the beach, Julie pulled up next to Tim and told him to follow. Without further instructions she gunned her engine and took off across the smooth water at full speed, turning left at the point of the bay, heading north. Jesse could only hope Leslie's breakfast didn't end up on Julie's back.

Fifteen minutes and a few miles later, Julie took them in to the shore, landing at a small, hidden beach.

"When I was here last year we discovered this place," she explained. Jesse wondered if Tim was trying to determine who she had discovered it with, but the young woman anticipated the unspoken question. "My _family_ picnicked here a couple times," she said blandly. Then she gave Tim a not too friendly smile – a warning – _Don't get possessive, we're only together a few days._ Jesse felt embarrassed for his friend, but it passed quickly as the beauty and solitude of the cove captured his attention.

Beaching the jet skis securely, Julie spoke again. "We'll have privacy here, or we can head further north to Orient Bay, but that's an all nude beach and I know you guys wouldn't enjoy it."

Leslie barked out a loud laugh. Tim gave Julie a saccharine smile. Jesse tried to maintain a neutral expressing but it only made him look constipated.

"Let's stay here for a while," Leslie finally said. "We'll have to leave in an hour or so for lunch anyway." The others agreed and moved the jet skis next to some driftwood to make them less conspicuous. Then they set two of their beach towels on the sand and headed into the water. Jesse and Leslie splashed into the chilly ocean first, both hesitating when the water approached more sensitive areas of their body. Tim and Julie, obviously less inhibited, dove right in and swam out in the shallow water.

"So what's this you wanted to show me, Les?" Jesse asked as they held hands and swung each other around in slow, lazy circles. He felt mesmerized by his best friend in her new bathing suite, almost dizzy as he unabashedly looked her over: It hid very little, especially when wet.

"Oh, that's right. Look."

Releasing hands, Leslie sat on a nearby rock and lifted her right leg out of the shallow water. Jesse looked on a few seconds, still unsure. "Yeah, so what is it?"

"Jess! Look here." She pointed to her ankle. Squinting in the bright sun, Jesse finally saw a small, bright red heart with a black border tattooed on her otherwise flawless and tanned skin.

"You got a _tattoo_?" he asked, obviously not believing what his girlfriend had done. "When?"

"Tuesday morning, when Grace and Claire and I went out. Like it?"

"Um…it's ok, I guess."

"I thought of you when I chose it." She leaned over and kissed him.

"I must rate pretty low. A tiny tattoo on your ankle?"

Unsure if Jesse was serious, Leslie stood with her arms akimbo. "I could have gotten it on my butt or breast, but then you'd _never_ see it," she said mockingly.

Immediately regretting his words and seeming lack of interest, Jesse tried to fix the situation.

"Les, it's not that! I just…well, you're, you know, um…you're pretty the way you are. You don't need anything else."

With a suspicious look, Leslie eased up. "Ok, sorry…I mean thanks. You know, you're very good at talking your way out of things. But you really don't like it?"

"You got it now; not much I can do about it, is there?"

"Well," she hedged, "it's not _real_. It's a henna tattoo. It'll wear off in a couple months."

"Oh, ok." And as if the conversation had never taken place, they returned to playing in the water. After a while, Jesse suggested they get lunch. "I told Tom we'd meet him at that sandwich place Vanessa told us about. We should probably get going soon."

Tim and Julie saw their younger friends wave them in and arrived before either had finished drying off. Leslie elbowed Jesse and he turned to mention meeting Tom and Mel for lunch, but that wasn't why she had poked him. Instead, he found himself almost face to face with the young woman, bare from the waist up, casually drying herself. Jesse glanced at Tim and saw his face was slightly red; when he turned back to Julie, he saw Leslie was watching him watch her. Unable to speak, Jesse backed away, grabbed his things, and headed for the jet skis. Leslie followed. When she reached him she could tell he was breathing hard.

"You ok, Jess?"

"Um, yeah. Seeing that from a distance is one thing, up close is, um, different."

Trying to calm her boyfriend down, Leslie placed her hand softly on Jesse's arm. "Jess, you've seen girls up close. Claire was practically in your face the first time we saw her."

"Yeah, but Claire wasn't, um, stacked like _that_."

Leslie conceded the point. "Ok, Julie has a lot more on top…and if you're so embarrassed why do you keep glancing back at her?"

Jesse shrugged. "Just curious," he admitted. "Remember in France? Back then I thought all girls looked the same, um, their boobs. Except size. They aren't, are they?"

Wrapping her arms around Jesse, Leslie laughed softly. "No, not at all _breasts_ are the same. I thought all guys looked at magazines, you know, like Playboy. Those women are very different."

Stunned, Jesse asked, "You've looked at a Playboy?"

"Once. I get curious, too."

"That kind of stuff is gross. It's pornographic," he nearly spat out.

"Jesse Aarons! It is _not_ pornographic. And dad says it's probably the cleanest of all those men's magazines."

Groaning, Jesse took one last glance and saw Julie putting her top back on. She saw him this time and said, "Sorry, Jess, I didn't mean to traumatize you. But now you can say you saw a movie star topless. Just don't say which one." And with a friendly smile, she helped Tim collect the rest of their things.

"Jess, we can be more careful," whispered Leslie, "if you want. I really didn't know Julie was going to go topless. I thought your parents sent them with us to keep us away from that."

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted. To himself, however, Jesse Aarons found that he actually felt calmer than he would have thought. _Am I becoming desensitized?_ he thought. _Probably not…_

A short jet ski ride brought the two couple to the southern edge of Orient Bay, and all four immediately saw the beach fully lived up to its reputation. But there was also an aspect about the location that none of them had considered: clothing optional applied to females _and_ males. For the first time in her life, Leslie was confronted with a plethora of mature male appendages. Her reaction was not wholly different than Jesse's – just less obvious - and her boyfriend enjoyed a moment of dour satisfaction seeing Leslie's look of shock and awe. He was saved from further embarrassment by the quick thinking Julie who took Leslie's arm and led the teen off in a safer direction. For the first time that day, Jesse was glad for their chaperones.

They soon found Tom and Mel at _Z-Best Sandwiches_, a ramshackle looking establishment run by a beautiful blonde woman and three only slightly less stunning assistants. The crowd of patrons attested to the establishment's reputation. The two groups greeted each other and plodded glumly to end of the huge line, wondering how long they would have to wait for service. It was not very long at all. When they realized the place sold only one type of sandwich, the reason for the brief wait for food was illuminated. Lunches in hand, the three couples found a picnic table and sat to eat, except Julie, who, with a grimace, phoned her guard and told him where they were.

"Joe will be here in a few minutes. Sorry everyone; I hate it a lot more than you do."

Mumbling through a mouthful of food, Tom asked if he always had to be around her. Julie nodded in disgust. "Joe or Raul, seven by twenty-four." Then biting into her sandwich, she made a face. "I _hate_ bean sprouts. Yuck!"

"Are you making any movies now?" Leslie asked the actress as she spit a mouthful of the green and white flora into her napkin and wiped the rest off of the sandwich.

"No, I'm taking a break for college. I'll be done next May; then I'll start auditioning again." With her next bite, Julie made another face. Jesse wondered if she liked anything.

Through lunch, the six took turns sharing stories about their life – getting to know each other better. Julie and Mel sighed dramatically, placing a hand over their heart, when Leslie told how Jesse had saved her from drowning. Tom complained about leaving Lark Creek in a few months. Tim spoke of how he loved their farm in Ohio. Mel said just the opposite. Julie talked about anything _except_ Hollywood, even to the point of snapping at Tom when he asked how she got started in the business. But with the cruise more than half over, Jesse felt funny – and wondered if the others did too – getting to know people they would probably never see again. He liked Tim, Mel and Julie, but a gnawing resistance seemed to be forcing a wedge between him and these new friends. That, coupled with the age differences, was locking down Jesse's disinterest in associating with anyone but Leslie.

As the meal progressed, Tom and Mel were drifting off into a world of their own, by the looks they were giving each other and their near constant physical contact. The air of uncertainty that hung over his friend earlier in the day was gone and he appeared more satisfied than ever with his new – temporary - girlfriend. Jesse wondered how that would play out in a few days. But his mind was more preoccupied with the ever confusing demands of adolescence, peer pressure, and dealing with his best friends' focus on life events that were of a lower priority to himself.

Particularly Leslie's interests.

For the first time in a year, Jesse seriously wondered if his life _before_ the discovery of his mental illness issues had been better. How the tearing apart of different aspects of his personality had come about was becoming far less ambiguous – and he was tempted to let himself sink into that same comfortable abyss: Let his mind unravel….

He felt a hand on his arm. "Jess? You still with me?" It was Leslie, he saw, as his eyes opened and focused. Their picnic table had been cleared and the others were walking towards the ocean. "We're going back to that other beach, if we can all fit on the two jet skis. And you need more lotion, your shoulders are a little red."

The smooth, cool lotion on his neck and back completed the process of waking up. Leslie's soft hands, so wonderfully familiar now, comforted and calmed him. In a few minutes the hot sub-tropical air, the smell of the salty sea, and the proximity to sights and sounds of the clear blue ocean had un-fogged Jesse's mind. He felt invigorated and ready to move on. In the recesses of his mind, his subconscious carefully tucked away doubts and cares…for a time.

* * *

Back in seclusion, Jesse and Leslie walked to the south point of land overlooking the small private beach Julie had shown them that morning. Their other four friends had plunged into the water as soon as the jet skis were secured, but Jesse wanted some quiet time with Leslie. This was the last few hours on the islands before returning to Miami and neither – Jesse most of all – wanted to miss the view not visible from sea level. Sitting under a palm tree, Leslie leaned into her friend and he comfortably put his arm around her shoulder.

"You're going to hate leaving, aren't you, Jess?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

"The mountains are beautiful, but this is like magic. I wish we were staying overnight. I bet the sky is clear and the stars bright when all the lights are out."

Leslie laughed and squeezed Jesse's hand. "There you go again, getting romantic on me." Jesse started to protest but was overridden. "I think it would be great, too. Maybe we'll come back here some day."

"Mm-hmm…maybe."

"Maybe? Why not just you and me?" Jesse's body language began shouting _slower_ to Leslie. "When we're older, I mean," she added quickly and he relaxed some, admitting it _would_ be nice.

Leslie sighed to herself, gave up trying to sound romantic, and refocused on the last couple hours on the island. She pulled out a map and both flipped onto their stomach to see if anything interesting was within walking distance, but they were too isolated. Instead, they returned to the beach and collected some shells and coral to take home as gifts. In the distance, Julie and Tim were swimming and talking and splashing; the actress again without her top. Mel and Tom had left the water and were nowhere to be seen, but hints of their laughing voices could just be heard on the other side of the small coral and sand rise. Jesse and Leslie headed that way.

Approaching, Jesse stopped and asked, "Do you think they're, um, you know, _decent_?" Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend, Leslie shook her head and didn't bother to answer, instead she took his hand and led on.

The two new friends were lying on the beach a hundred yards away, their heads propped up with piles of sand, and talking. Just talking. As they approached and called out, it was plain to see – even from a distance - that Mel had shed her top, and was comfortable with the change. In fact, she was obviously more comfortable about it that Tom – and a lot more comfortable about it than Jesse who waved stiffly and tried to head back.

"Jess, cut it out," Leslie said under her breath. "If Mel is self-conscious about herself she'll cover-up." At that moment their friend did just that. When she had secured her suit, she and Tom jumped up and met them. Jesse immediately began to apologize for interrupting, but Mel dismissed him, thumbing back towards their spot on the beach.

"We saw some people walking this way and were about to get up. I think they have cameras."

Leslie growled out something that sounded vaguely obscene and ran to warn Tim and Julie. She made it just in time and their last hour ashore was occupied with avoiding the small swarm of press and photographers. Defeated, the six returned to port on the jet skis and retreated to the safety of the liner. Julie met Joe at the gangway, gave him an evil look, and turned to the others. "Join us for dinner? It's formal tonight." Jesse hesitated, not knowing if Julie was being polite or really wanted to get together with a bunch of teens five years younger than she or Tim. But Leslie accepted and the actress looked pleased. She gave everyone a hug, Tim a kiss, and walked off, Joe trailing, for her cabin.

When they returned to the suite, Jesse and Leslie separated, showered, and met again in the living room and began a game of checkers: Tom was just returning from walking Mel to her cabin and Mr. and Mrs. Aarons also appeared. Jesse noticed that Leslie had already applied another seasickness patch and took pity on her poor checkers playing ability, letting her _almost_ win. And more than once, he noticed his mother give Leslie a suspicious look, but he chalked it up to her – apparent – growing interest in their relationship. He wondered if he should talk to her about it but decided to wait until they returned home.

At dinner that evening, the Lark Creek gang and the Haskells formally met Julie's family. The overriding feeling Jesse gathered from the actresses parents – Wayne and Marie - was one of suspicion; the reason for that was soon made clear.

Through the appetizer and salad courses, Mr. Summers, a man who was difficult to picture as the father of such a pretty young woman, spoke only in clipped, terse snippets to his wife and daughter. Mrs. Summers looked embarrassed by her husband's behavior, but while waiting for the main course, Julie explained the tension. "It turns out that my _bodyguard,_ Joe, was leaking our location to the press on the island. That's how they knew where we were this afternoon." Then more discreetly to Tim, "Mom and Dad would've freaked if they'd gotten any pictures of me…or us." Smiling, she playfully poked her friend in the ribs and then returned to the general conversation around the table.

Jesse noticed that Mel – and Tim to some extent - looked horrified at this news, and he knew why: Mel would never have _indulged_ herself on a public beach if she thought cameras would be present. Seeing their daughter posted on the internet or in some tabloid would have crushed them. Turning to his own girlfriend, he saw Leslie looked ashen; whether due to seasickness or the story he did not bother to ask. Tom merely looked angry.

"So Raul has a full-time job now?" Jesse heard Tim ask.

"No, we fired him, too," Julie said with more than a little semblance of delight. The reason was obvious, she would be free of their omnipresence. Too late for this cruise, but it promised a less restrictive future for the young woman.

Near the end of dinner the cruise director announced the activities for the evening: Theatrical performances, more adult entertainment in a lounge (Jesse and Tom looked at each other and shook their head), a movie, ice sculpting, another midnight poolside party, and the comedian from the first day aboard ship, Karl Lanks, performing a late-night routine. To the relief of the younger ones present the adults didn't put any restrictions on what they did, together or individually, and the Aarons, Haskells, and Summers parents disappeared for some unknown part of the ship. The only limitation for the teens was to not stay up all night. Jack also gave his son a long, severe look as he left with his wife.

Tim and Julie went off to be on their own after thanking their friends for joining them for dinner. Tom winked and commented to Jesse that Tim looked especially delighted with the prospect of having time alone with his new friend.

Grace and Claire started to talk the others into joining them at _Teen Time_ until two boys they'd met earlier came up and asked them to go to the movies with them. Giggling like young girls they ran off to change and meet their "dates."

"So, um, you guys want to do something...together?" Jesse asked.

"Les and I had some plans," Mel said. "You two want to join us?" she added, with a impish smile that made the boy's breathe faster and nod stupidly. They followed the girls back to the cabin where they disappeared to change; the boys did likewise, not having noticed that Mel must have planned this earlier if her clothes were already in Leslie's room.

With a mouth full of toothpaste foam, Jesse asked, "So wha' da you thin' we're gonna do?"

"Does it matter?" laughed Tom. A muffled _no_ sounded from the bathroom followed by Jesse walking back into the room and pulling on a clean t-shirt.

An hour later, having looked through all the interesting parts of the ship they had not yet visited, Tom, Jesse, Mel and Leslie found themselves returning to the semi-privacy of the lifeboat deck and another heavy make-out session that left all four teens sweating and Mel again suggesting they find an empty cabin. Jesse, like last time, went along, ignoring the warnings his conscience was throwing at him. He knew they would not be returning to the Haskell's cabin, which meant his and Tom's. Taking Leslie's hand, he led the way.

Through the corridors, on his left shoulder, _Bad Jesse_ was prompting him to accept whatever Leslie offered in the way of an early birthday present; on his right, _Good Jesse_ was working frantically to shore-up the rapidly failing wall of morals he had spent so many years building. It was clearly a losing effort. However, upon entering the suite, the four teens came face-to-face with the six adults lounging in the spacious living room and their immediate plans were dashed.

Leslie elbowed Jesse to not say anything, but it was too late. "Hi, um, we're just going to our, um, room."

"_To change!"_ Leslie nearly shouted. "I mean, the boys are. Can we use the hot tub?"

Six suspicious pairs of eyes watched the boys trip over themselves on the way to their room. The girls, hardly more graceful, went to Leslie's. Jack gave his wife a knowing look and started to get up, but Mary took his hand and he reluctantly returned to his seat. The other two couples tried to act distracted but failed. Wayne suggested they find their daughter but _his_ wife reminded him she and Tim were adults. The six parents glanced at each other, each entertaining similar thoughts: _Teens!_

So the balance of the evening was spent chatting in the hot tub or beside it on the lounge chairs. The suite's cook, hardly used over the past five days, proved his worth by splitting his time and talent between the two groups. There was never a want for drinks or snacks of the highest quality. As midnight approached, he even cooked up ten small, made-to-order individual omelets and served them with Champaign. The teens were delighted when allowed a single glass each.

With the ship quieting down for the night, Jack and Mary headed to bed after their older guests bade all good night. Mel was given a one o'clock curfew in spite of all possible pleading and begging, so she and Tom glumly took a blanket and went out to the starboard balcony for a half-hour together, alone. Jesse and Leslie did the same, on the port side, cuddling together as they had the previous nights, wrapped in each other's arms. When they heard Mel leave, with Tom as an escort, it was also time for them to get to bed. Jesse gave his girlfriend one last, long passionate kiss, savoring the lingering taste of Champagne in her mouth and on her lips.

Much to his surprise, however, Leslie broke away sooner than expected. She looked him in the eyes while resting her forehead against his.

"Jess, I haven't ruined this trip for you, have I?"

Taken aback, Jesse looked away as he tried to imagine what would make Leslie say such an odd thing, but she misread the motion and started to apologize. Jesse brought that to an abrupt halt.

"No! I was only wondering why you would think that. I couldn't imagine doing this with, um, anyone else...Besides, no one else's father would be crazy enough to send a bunch of people on a cruise he couldn't take."

"That's true," Leslie breathed out in relief. "I was afraid I had been putting too much pressure on you to, you know..."

"Yeah, I know." He paused. "Les, why _are_ you doing that?"

"Don't you want to…" she started to ask in an injured tone.

"_Yes_, Les, I _do_. That should be _obvious_. We've talked about this before, why do you keep bringing it up?"

"That's just it, Jess: If we both want it…to do…something, why not? We don't have to have intercourse." Slightly frustrated, Leslie moved away and sat in another chair. "But, well, don't _you_ feel ready for more? On the make-out scale of one to ten, we're at about one point five."

"Two."

"Huh?"

Jesse laughed. "I think we've made it to two."

"Oh, _ha, ha_, very funny. I'm serious."

"So am I. You think we can just walk down an icy hill without falling?"

Leslie was taken aback by the analogy but quickly recovered. "Where'd you hear that one from? My mother?"

Not willing to take the bait, Jesse ignored the thinly veiled sarcasm. "No, but it's _true_, Les. Besides…"

There was another long pause while Jesse thought of what to say, but he couldn't find the words. This was highly uncommon when he talked to Leslie about serious matters, but she could see he was troubled by something and it softened her.

"Jess, I feel like I'm offering you something important and you're refusing it."

"I know," he replied after a long minute. "But…Les, I'm…afraid."

"Of me?"

"No! Of ruining what we have."

Leslie sat back heavily in her chair, and with a sad, almost frightened voice, said, "Did you ever think that doing _nothing_ might ruin what we have?"

"Um…No." Sighing, he paused again, trying to think of what to say. "Les…" He was about to say, _Love is patient_, when he realized a truth he'd failed to see for a long time: Leslie had not dropped out of the RCIC program because of disinterest, she'd dropped out because of a moral impasse. She could not reconcile the Church's teachings with her own wants and desires. And he had been pushing her deeper and deeper into this quandary instead of helping her find an answer. If there was one.

"There is one…" Jesse said aloud.

"A what?"

"Come here, please?" He patted the lounge chair next to himself where she had sat minutes before. With a confused look, Leslie got up and sat with him again.

A long silence ensued. Eventually Leslie turned on to her side and backed into Jesse, letting him spoon up to her. His hands wrapped around her body – one under her neck the other around her waist. The blanket almost warmed her enough: Jesse's arms made up the rest and he nuzzled his face into her hair. She felt the rough stubble of a few young whiskers grate against her scar and it gave her a shock. As Jesse relaxed, so did she, and in an unexpected, unrehearsed and unhesitant move, he slipped his left hand from her stomach upwards. It was the most electrifying moment in Leslie's life.

Jesse thought it was pretty nice, too.

After a few minutes, Leslie suggested they go back in, but instead, he clung to her and they drifted off to sleep as the cool March night deepened around them and the last sounds of partying faded away.

* * *

Jesse stirred as the eastern sky was just beginning to show signs of the approaching dawn. The cold morning air and wind circulating in the cavity of their port balcony's enclosure had drowned out the crashing of heavy swells breaking against the hull of the liner. The slight pitch and roll of the ship, insignificant to almost everyone aboard, felt like much more to a few, and it was the sound of Leslie retching that awoke Jesse fully. His best friend was partly draped over the balcony railing, obviously having forgotten there was another private – and hopefully unoccupied one – just a deck below.

Jesse sprung up, shaking off the aches from sleeping in a deck chair, and helped Leslie to her bathroom. While she was cleaning up, he quietly looked through the room for her stash of seasickness patches, eventually finding them on Grace's nightstand. Still bleary-eyed, it took him a couple seconds to notice Grace's bed hadn't been slept in that night. A mixture of dread, jealousy, and annoyance occupied his thoughts as he gave Leslie the patch. Then, guiding the swaying girl to her bed he left abruptly to find their friend, wondering why his father hadn't checked-up on her.

The answer lay partially hidden - and sleeping - on one of the large sofas in the living room. Grace was wrapped in a blanket she had copped from one of the rooms, but stirred as Jesse flopped into a nearby chair in relief.

"Hey, Jess," his friend said in a mumble; then she yawned and sat up, stretching. When more awake, Grace ran off to her room, asking Jesse to wait for her, and returned a minute later, sitting on the couch.

"You scared me, Gracie," Jesse admonished when the girl returned. "I was in your room and your bed hadn't been slept in."

_In my room? For how long?_ "Uh, sorry. I got in late and didn't want to wake Les."

Jesse laughed. "Wouldn't have mattered, we fell asleep on the balcony." Grace arched her eyebrows and gave her friend a curious, penetrating look. The reply was mostly accurate. "Yes, and that was all we did: Sleep." Another mostly accurate statement. Trying to change the subject, Jesse asked what she and Claire had done the night before.

"Not much. We saw that movie then went up to _Teen Time_ for a couple hours to play Guitar Hero, and they had a casino night with fake money, but if you won you could bid on prizes. It was fun. That ended at midnight and then we walked around the ship a while."

"Just you and Claire?" asked Jesse, now giving his friend a penetrating look. Seeing Grace blush, he ventured another comment. "Was he as good as that Eric guy from last summer?"

Grace threw a pillow at Jesse, but laughed – and blushed more. "Yes, he was." Then, ducking her head a little, she continued. "And he, uh, liked to use his h-hands a lot more, too."

Jesse, until that point thinking he might go back to bed, instantly lost all sensation of sleepiness.

_Did she just suggest…?_

"Are you ok, Gracie? Did he _hurt_ you?"

"Of course I'm ok. We didn't _do_ anything…much."

"Uh-huh. Then why are you blushing?"

Preparing to throw another pillow, Grace stood instead and stumbled around the table. Reaching Jesse's chair, she plopped into it next to him. There wasn't much room.

"Jesse Aarons," she began defensively. "I'm fourteen and a half and perfectly able to take care of myself. Don't start acting big-brotherly." Then pausing, Grace finished with a laugh: "Are you jealous?"

Jesse _was_ a little jealous, in fact, but it was not for the same reason as Grace believed it was. Seeing so many friends explore their sexuality left him feeling humiliated in front of his friend. Humiliated and discouraged. And to him, Grace had always been the pillar of virtue among his closest acquaintances, and her seeming willingness to remain chaste was the one aspect of her personality most attractive to him. He wondered if that was now disappearing, leaving him behind. Obsolete.

Grace, however, was not thinking along those same lines. In fact, her activities the evening before went little beyond some playful groping and a single, bold, intimate caress. It was condoned more so she could converse knowingly about some level of intimacy than for pleasure – although there _was_ a jolt of that! With only a few weeks remaining before her move to Northern Virginia, Grace wondered, too, if she was unconsciously making one final play for Jesse Aarons. It still never occurred to her that her actions might turn him _off_ more than turn him _on_. But whatever the future held, she knew, it was not going to be her and Jesse as a couple. And ruining her friendship with him and Leslie would be stupid and just plain mean.

She turned to Jesse and hugged him briefly, then kissed him on the cheek. "We didn't do much of anything, Jess. No more than you and Les have done." And with a teasing look, she rose and went to her room saying she was going to sleep a couple more hours. Jesse, when the door had closed, moved to the couch Grace had occupied most of the night and wrapped himself in the blanket. As he drifted back to sleep he realized he could smell his younger friend in the covers and pillow. He found it was strangely depressing.

* * *

Most of the Lark Creek natives stumbled into the dining room at about eight, having been awakened by an emergency announcement for a stretcher on the basketball court. Jack, the first to arrive, was surprised to see his son getting up from the couch. He would have sworn he'd seen Grace Jacobs there earlier in the morning. He gave Jesse a confused look, and Jesse laughed, having a good idea what was going through his father's mind.

Last to show up for breakfast on this final full day of the cruise was Leslie. She looked better than Jesse had seen her a few hours before, and had obviously showered and been up for a while. The weather outside was almost clear and the seas calm – this helped her disposition, too. She sat next to Jesse and kissed his cheek.

"Are you sore this morning? I am," she asked innocently.

Tom choked on his mouth full of orange juice, nearly spraying his sister, and Jesse's parents both dropped their spoons. "Oh - no! We fell asleep on the balcony last night, Mr. Aarons, Mrs. Aarons." Neither parent said anything in response, but Jesse was sure they would at some point. Tom threw his friend a quick glance and jumped up to get his omelet from the cook.

Following breakfast, Jesse and Tom started packing, and it didn't take long for the older teen to broach the subject of Leslie's double entendre. It brought out some good laughs.

A while later, Leslie joined Jesse and Tom in their room while Grace washed up and got dressed. All were a little somber at the thought of returning home, but after talking about what they missed, all realized they were actually happier about heading back to Virginia. Strangely, Tom had no plans for seeing Mel that day, neither did his sister for seeing Claire or the boys from the previous night. (Jesse was perfectly happy to hear that.) But it was obvious both Jacobs children would miss their new friends, and Tom acted as if getting back together with the twins and Mikey Sellers was foremost on his mind.

And all four had forgotten that this trip had been planned for them to be together one last time, yet they had spent most of the week apart. Still, in Jesse's mind, he felt closer to Tom and Grace than ever before, though he could not pin down the reason. They had also planned one last hike and campout on the Boone property before the move; perhaps that, Jesse considered, was the reason he was not seeing them as leaving. Yet.

Mid-morning approached and Leslie said she had to practice her lines and songs for the musical, so she and Grace gathered the script and score and headed to the theater where they planned to meet one of the hired actors for some tips. Jesse begged off, asking Tom if he wanted to try to sneak into the casino. Always one for taking a risk, Tom accepted and they changed into their most mature looking clothing. An hour later, Jesse's father was rescuing them from one of the casino bouncers who had caught them - and found the situation highly amusing. Jack Aarons did not.

At lunch, the four teens ran into Tim Haskell and Julie Summers. But the couple, (who were showing absolutely no signs of cooling their week-long fling,) merely waved at them and returned to what appeared to be a very private conversation. The girls sighed and looked mushily at each other, but the boys ignored them.

Mid-afternoon, Jesse's parents informed him that they had invited the two family of friends they'd made for a going-away dinner. Jesse went to his room where the others were playing cards and told them the news. Tom groaned, but the girls were happy.

When the time for their last meal together arrived, the spacious suite felt much more crowded with fourteen people moving about. To Jesse's surprise, and disgust, his parents allowed Tom to have a beer – a single beer – which the fifteen year old proudly carried more than drank. Jack told his son he could rationalize a boy almost sixteen with a single brew, but not one for his fourteen year old son. Mel's parents offered her one, too, but she politely declined. Neither she not Tom had spoken much, but neither did they appear uncomfortable in each other's presence. In fact, Mr. and Mrs. Haskell could be seen, occasionally, prompting their older daughter to talk with her male friend, but she chose Leslie, Grace and Claire instead. When Jesse saw Tom watching one of these exchanges he shrugged.

The going-away dinner was expertly prepared and lasted two hours, the cook bringing out no more than a course or two every ten or fifteen minutes. It was awkward, at first, with everyone so accustomed to rushing through a meal, but the logic of the process was soon apparent: This method fostered more conversation and allowed proper preparation of each dish. In the end, the meal was judged excellent and no one felt as if they had forgotten to say goodbye or express gratitude to any of their new friends.

While packing that evening (the debarkation began at eight o'clock the next morning) Jesse, Tom, Grace and Leslie spoke little. While each was sad to be leaving the Caribbean and their friends, they also knew it was time to go. Living in such close proximity with so many people was starting to grate on nerves – even Grace and Leslie snapped at the other a couple times that evening. Given his choice, Jesse concluded that a week camping in the mountains would have been almost as much fun. When he told this to Leslie she agreed, though neither expressed any regrets.

In the hot tub – for the last time – the six Virginians relaxed one final time. The next day would be hectic, with leaving the ship, getting to the airport, flying back to Roanoke, driving home, and getting ready for school. Leslie was far more anxious about the musical than school and said she understood better why freshmen were seldom picked for a leading roll in high school dramas. Beneath the bubbling water Jesse held her hand reassuringly, caressing her wrist with his thumb, hoping it would calm her. It helped.

When it was time to leave, everyone bade their friends a final goodbye. The girls cried and the boys rolled their eyes. Julie promised Leslie she would have a wonderful time in the acting class and kidded her about meeting in Hollywood in the future. Tom gave Mel an unexpectedly passionate kiss goodbye. Jesse watched on with a curious interest as Tim and Julie acted as though nothing was about to change.

* * *

After a fast breakfast Sunday morning, and a final farewell to their cook and steward, Vanessa met her six guests and escorted them past the huge lines of non-first-class passengers to a private gangway and customs station. They saw nothing of the Haskells or Summers on the way out, but were too busy being rushed about to dwell on it. Besides their luggage, almost everyone had another bag of gifts and souvenirs they were bringing back, Jesse and Leslie carrying the most. A limousine was waiting for them on the docks, and with a quick farewell to Vanessa, they climbed in and headed to the airport.

Sunday morning traffic was very light and it took less than a half hour to reach the terminal. When checked-in, it was only ten o'clock and they had three hours before departure. Mostly they snoozed or talked. Grace lobbied to look for their friends, but Jesse's parents nipped that idea and suggested they all do some school work. Grumbling, the four obeyed, knowing they would get little done after they arrived home. Even Tom went about the business of readjusting, albeit prosaically, all the while shooting disgruntled looks at his sister and friends.

The Boeing 757 landed in Roanoke at exactly three in the afternoon. The brown-grey mountains were a stark contrast to the ever-green tropics so recently seen and its neighboring blue and aquamarine water. Even traveling first class did little to cheer-up the travelers. Quietly, all six sighed sadly as the plane touched down. They were almost home.

Bill, his very pregnant wife, and son, were – unexpectedly - waiting for their daughter and friends as they debarked the airplane. Leslie ran to them, scooping up Jimmy first and then hugging her parents and thanking them copiously. A moment later the others joined her, though Jack gave his neighbor a severe look before smiling and shaking his hand. Mary immediately pulled Judy away to ask about her children.

"It was wonderful being away for a week, but I missed them. Is the house still in one piece?"

"Yes, Mare, everyone's fine. Jealous, perhaps, but fine. Toby and Ellie took good care of everything. Even Bren helped some." This last note made both women laugh.

"How about Anton? Was he a permanent fixture, too?"

Judy's face fell and she led her friend a bit further away from the others. "Yes, until two days ago. He and Toby got into some sort of fight and we haven't seen him since. I think Brenda and Ellie know what's going on but they won't say a word."

"Did Anton and Brenda break up?"

"No, not so far as I can tell. May told me she heard some of the argument and it sounded like they were fighting about the Army."

Shaking her head dolefully, Mary commented about boys and their careers and returned to helping carry things out to the stretch-van Bill had rented. Jimmy insisted on sitting next to Jesse and hearing all about the _big_ boat, so that was the topic of conversation for the next hour, leaving the boy wide-eyed and clutching Jesse's hand affectionately.

Pulling on to the road his family shared with the Burke's, Jesse experienced a sensation he never noticed upon returning from other longer trips away from home: He felt as though he was coming back to someone else's house. Of course, everything looked the same – or at least no one had set fire to the building - but there was something different, something had definitely changed. Whether it was within himself or elsewhere he could not determine. The mountain air smelled so completely different than sea air, or the conditioned air breathed aboard the ship. But there was also an earthy odor Jesse first attributed to spring. It took him a while to discover it was something very different.

Al Jacobs and the balance of the Aarons family, including Toby, met the returning travelers as they pulled up to the house. Mary jumped out first and hugged her kids long and hard; even Jack outdid himself showing affection. Jesse greeted May, Joyce Anne and Brian first, promising each gifts and stories. When he saw Ellie, however, he found her looking behind him. _At Leslie,_ he guessed.

Toby came down from the porch and in short, chopped, succinct phrases, greeted Jack and said some words quietly to him. Mr. Aarons looked surprised but pleased, and then disappeared into the house to answer the ringing telephone.

Leslie and Jesse walked over to Tom and Grace who were talking excitedly with their father. Then the four teens moved the bags into the Jacobs' car, Tom and Grace thanked the Burkes and Aarons again, and said goodbye. They would see each other in fourteen hours at the student drop-off.

Walking Leslie home, Jesse led them on the path by the creek. Both teens were silent until they looked into the woods across the stream and through the bare branches of the trees and brush on the far bank. They let go of each other's hand.

"_What happened?_" asked both at the same time.

* * *

"Mary?" Jack called out a minute after he had finished a long telephone conversation. His wife appeared with everyone except Jesse and Leslie. "That was Mike Haskell. It seems his son and that actress girl ran off on their own after the cruise. No one's seen them since."

_A/N: Again, sorry for the long delay. I can't promise, but I will try to finish up the last few chapters before Christmas._

Revision 1.1, October, 2008


	53. Part 5: The Clubs

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 53 – The Clubs**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

They were rhetorical questions: Both Jesse and Leslie could plainly see what was happening to the woods across the creek – the same woods that sparked their friendship five years earlier: Terabithia. Visible on the other side of the remaining narrow barrier of trees, the woodland beyond was well along its way to being cleared. The property had been for sale going on seven years, Jesse's father had told them; few had the money to buy six hundred thirty acres, almost an entire square mile.

Leslie moaned, leaning against her boyfriend, clutching his hand with both of hers. "I hope they don't build condos, or apartments."

Jesse found this amusing. "Yeah, like people are waiting in line to move to Lark Creek. I bet it's something else."

With dinnertime approaching, the two went their separate ways after a long, silent embrace. Being together so much over the past week left both feeling a little lonely as they returned to their respective families. That did not last long, however, as the realities of returning home to missed chores, schoolwork, news, and family filled the next few hours.

Near midnight, Ellie knocked on Jesse's bedroom door and poked her head in. Jesse was nodding off over his Spanish textbook: He'd had enough of conjugating irregular verbs for the evening. She sat on the bed. "Welcome home, little bro. Sorry I haven't had a chance to talk to you."

"'S'okay," Jesse slurred, shutting the textbook and nearly falling out of his chair as he turned to talk to his sister.

"So…?"

"So…what?"

"Oh, come on, Jess, you know what. _You and Les._ Did anything…happen?"

Sighing, Jesse moved to sit on the bed next to his sister. "Nothing like _that_, Eleanor."

"Ok." She sounded disappointed, and then changed the subject. "Look, Toby's going back to Bethesda tomorrow to start the treatments for his eyes, and he was cleared for limited duty while his appeal is processed. Maybe we can spend some time together in the evenings."

"You're not going?"

"No, I have to work, and Toby'll be inaccessible anyway."

Taking a clean t-shirt from his dresser, Jesse tossed the worn and soiled one in a hamper. "Gonna stay here or at your place?"

"With all that racket across the creek?" She thumbed at the woods. "No way."

"Yeah, what's going on over there? Someone finally bought the land, I guess. It looks like they're clearing it. Just a minute." Jesse dashed into the bathroom, changed quickly, brushed his teeth, looked in on his little sisters and brother, and returned to his room. Ellie was smiling.

"Jess, you don't know about the land? Dad didn't tell you?"

"No. He knows?"

Now Ellie laughed. "Jess, Bill and Judy bought the land. He and dad have some scheme going on – I don't know all the details. We'll find out soon enough, I guess. I heard you're going to be working over there a lot this summer." Jumping up, Ellie hugged her brother and said welcome home and good night, leaving Jesse with yet more questions. And he had forgotten to ask about the fight between Toby and Anton.

* * *

"Jess! My parents bought that land!" Leslie told him excitedly the next morning as they were driven to school.

"I know. Ellie told me last night. Do you know why?"

Bill Burke spoke up for the first time. "No, she doesn't. Everyone will find out in a couple weeks, when all the arrangements are made."

Jesse and Leslie looked at each other in frustration. Mr. Burke was good at keeping secrets when he wanted to be.

Arriving at school, neither saw any of their regular friends until lunch, but they did catch a few people watching them as the morning passed. It wasn't until Makayla jumped on them from behind, saying something unintelligible - due to her excited state - that they found out why.

"What did you call us, Kayla?" Leslie asked.

"'Miss Leslie Burke and a friend.' That's what Entertainment Daily called you this morning."

Jesse groaned. "ED?"

"Dad's going to freak out. He _hates_ it when I'm in the news," Leslie groused at the same time.

Each grabbing a random piece of pizza, Leslie and Jesse sat with Makayla at their usual table anxious to hear the rest of the news. But Makayla could do better than that, playing with her food with one hand and holding the paper upon which she had printed off the article from the web site with her other, she started reading it aloud: "Blah, blah, blah…Where's the good part? Here! 'Flash-and-Fade actress, Julie Summers, a teen star from the middle of the last decade…' _They make her sound so old!_ Uh, ok. '…was last seen in public on the Caribbean island of St. Maarten accompanied by an unknown young man, Miss Leslie Burke, daughter of renowned author Bill Burke, and a friend.' That's you, Jess, _a friend_." Makayla giggled then continued. 'Another unidentified couple met them at Orient Beach for lunch…' Blah, blah, blah." Leslie and Jesse found little humor, but they had heard about Julie and Tim's disappearance and prompted their friend to continue.

"Ok, ok….It says here, 'The only communications from the actress was a brief, terse email to her parents saying she and her "boyfriend" were fine and would be home soon.' That's all there is. So, you two were hanging around with them on the cruise? How cool is that!"

Jesse and Leslie filled in some of the details, annoyed almost as much with Makayla for making a big deal about it as the media.

"She's just a regular girl, Kayla. And she's been in college for three years, that's why she hasn't been acting."

At that moment, Tom Jacobs plopped into the bench next to Jesse and asked what was going on. He received the short version.

"Yeah, we got a call last night, too, wanting to know if we had any idea where they were. I bet they just ran off for a while to see if they really love each other, outside of the romantic atmosphere on a cruise."

Leslie looked surprised at Jesse. It was possibly the most thoughtful thing they'd ever heard Tom say, but then he continued: "So, anyone seen Mikey or the twins? Gotta make up for lost time."

"Same old Tom," Jesse noted with a smile.

By the time lunch ended, Jesse, Leslie had each given their highlights of the cruise a number of times to whoever asked. Tom's missing friends showed up late (due to an incident in gym for which the twins had to report to the front office. Mikey had accompanied them). The first thing Carol said to Tom was, "Why didn't you call me last night?"

"Oh, he has some really _exciting_ stories for you, Carol. Don't you, Tommy?" Leslie said in an offhanded manner. Jesse choked on his long-cold pizza and Tom, through a forced smile, said he'd call after school.

In the hallway later that day, Billy caught up with Jesse with some news of his own.

"Hey, welcome back. You hear about Hoager?"

"Scott or Steve?"

"Steve. He's going to Penn State on a full football scholarship."

Jesse sighed. "Lucky guy. I'm thrilled."

"Look, Jess…Are you going to run for class president next year?" Billy grabbed his shoulder and held on, not allowing Jesse to escape the question.

"Don't know. Why? You want to?"

"_Heck no!_ But you gotta… Just watch out. It won't be as easy this time." Releasing his friend, Billy gave him a cautious smile and jogged away to class. Jesse, completely confused, stood wondering about the warning, if that's what it was, until the sixth period bell rang.

* * *

While their children were back in school Monday morning, Judy and Mary met for a walk, sharing stories of what had happened on the cruise and at Lark Creek over the past week. Both women were anxious for details of things that might concern them directly, and one item that affected both families: Jesse and Leslie. Before they touched that subject, however, Judy shared a startling piece of information with her best friend.

"Mare, I…Bill and I, we heard from him. Our son."

It took Mary a few seconds to realize to whom Judy was referring, but when she did, she turned and took her friend's shoulders – though words failed her. Judy smiled and led her on.

"Just last Saturday. The Arlington County clerk's office forwarded a brief note from him dated about two years ago. They had instructions not to send it unless we had tried to make contact first. Then it went to our old place in Arlington, then to Bill's publisher and finally here." Breathless, Judy massaged her abdomen and stopped walking. Mary could tell her leg was bothering her and suggested they head back home.

"My _God_, Jude. What was it _like_? Are you ok?"

Following a brief pause, she answered. "It was wonderful. Terrible. Frightening. But he doesn't hate us, he says," she sniffled, emotions breaking through. "Guess what? He loves to write!"

"Oh, now there's a surprise!" teased Mary.

"And he doesn't know that Bill and I are famous…I mean, you know."

"Yes…" But Mary wondered silently if this was true. With an economy in shambles and many desperate people about, might the boy – young man – lie about such a thing to get part of the Burke's sizable fortune? "What are you going to do?"

"We don't know; it's hardly sunk in yet. Probably nothing until after the baby's born."

Arriving back at the house, Judy propped up her legs as she lay on the couch. Mary fetched a drink for both of them. They talked for an hour about the cruise, Judy delighted to see her friend smile so much at the vacation she and her husband had obviously needed.

"And now the big question: How did my daughter and your son do?"

"They were fine…for the most part. I had to talk to Leslie about tempting Jesse, especially with that bikini she brought..." Seeing the puzzled look on her friend's face, Mary surmised – correctly – that Judy knew nothing of it so she elaborated further.

"That girl! I _knew_ this was coming. On her way out to school this morning I had to send her back to her room to put on a bra. She was furious, claiming half the girls at school don't wear them."

"Yeah, one wasn't much in evidence on the cruise. Poor Jess."

Frowning, Judy finally asked the question: "Did anything happen?"

Mary was pretty sure she knew the answer to that, and said no. Then she qualified the negative. "We _did_ catch them sleeping together a couple times on the balcony. Nothing obvious was going on – and they look so cute together – but Jack was ready to wring their necks after the second time."

Judy rubbed her face and groaned. "I asked Leslie about her and Jess last night. Her snippy response was that they _didn't have sex_, which means they did do _something_ or she would have said otherwise. My daughter gets this wide-eyed look when she's lying, or hiding the truth. She thinks I don't notice." Mary responded with a mirthless laugh.

"Jude, if they want to screw around they're going to. All those years they've been hiking into the mountains - they could have been rolling around in the grass for all we knew. They both have good moral values, have a good idea of appropriate behavior and know the limits we've set. I'm sure there's some touching going on, but how much and how deep?" Mary ended the speculation with a shrug, and a quiet wish that she could be as calm about the relationship as she was suggesting to her friend.

* * *

Apart from the rides into school, lunches and quick glimpses while he worked on the set for the spring drama production, Jesse saw almost nothing of Leslie for the next two weeks. Practice for the musical consumed almost all of her free time and left the fifteen year old freshman tired and cranky in the evenings. Jesse promised to leave her alone, at her request, until the mid-April production was finished. He spent his freed-up time – much more than he realized – working on his portfolio of drawings. These were essential for the scholarship applications he would begin to investigate the following year. And when he wasn't drawing he was pestering his parents (and Leslie's) about the land purchased across the creek. But the adults were absolutely closed-mouthed about it and it wasn't until early April that some inklings of what was happening started to appear.

The clearing out of the thousands of trees, bushes and stumps went quickly with the large number of treaded construction vehicles and accompanying workers. The smaller plants were piled and burned, the mid-sized trees offered to anyone wanting the wood for fuel, and the largest pine, oak and maple were either sold or dragged to the road between the Burke and Aarons property for what Jesse expected would be firewood. He saw a future filled with splitting many cords of wood.

Then things became interesting. A few days before his birthday, four large earthmovers arrived and began tearing up and leveling about a third of the ground. As the area was partly on a floodplain between two creeks, it was not as rocky as many of the pastures in the valley, and the work proceeded quickly. Then, on the morning of Saturday, April 7, any ideas of the land being turned into housing was dispelled. Jesse, and very likely most of the neighborhood, woke up to a stench that made skunk musk smell delightful: He nearly gagged when he sniffed at the yet unidentifiable odor. May did, he could tell, hearing her retch while bring up breakfast in the bathroom.

But an early morning call from Bill saying Judy had given birth at one that morning to a healthy baby girl distracted the family from the stink. It did not surprise Jesse to hear that Leslie had picked out the name: Janice Olivia. Eager to escape the local _atmosphere_, all the Aarons present packed into the station wagon and left for the hospital.

Ellie and Toby were already present when Jesse and the others arrived, and he was delighted to see Brenda and Anton talking amiably with them. As of yet, he had not found out what their disagreement had been about, and Ellie did not volunteer any information so he had let it drop.

When the Aarons returned home that afternoon, Jimmy and Leslie came along to spend the night, Bill, Judy and Janice would return the following day. When Leslie got a whiff of the air at home, she turned a little green, reminiscent of the rougher weather on the cruise. Jimmy just pinched his nose.

"What is that horrible smell? It's like sewage."

"Good guess, Leslie," Jack Aarons said. "But you probably don't need to know anything beyond that, and you shouldn't play in it, either." A chorus of "Don't worry!" was the understandable reply.

For an entire week, tanker trucks sprayed a foul fluid on about a third of the cleared land, while countless dump trucks brought in ton after ton of what turned out to be compost and manure. By the following Saturday the land had been transformed from its previous grey-brown to a dark, rich black. To everyone's relief, the week of cool weather also kept the stench down, though that was bound to change as the month progressed. When the trucks and tankers finished, another parade of vehicles, mostly farm cultivators and bulldozers, finished the work by mixing the native soil with the nutrient rich additions. By that point, also, it was clear what was happening.

"I guess my dad wasn't satisfied with the greenhouse," Jesse joked to Leslie as they crossed a new makeshift bridge to their once magical kingdom. Walking past the rusted remnants of the old pickup and long-decayed tree house, the two looked out across hundreds of yards of future farmland. Little explanation was needed. Jesse didn't even need to ask his father what it was all about now. For a year, Jack Aarons had been facing the reality of the country's severe financial decline. Sales of farm equipment were slacking again, in spite of the good weather, and it was only a matter of time before rising gasoline prices destroyed yet another business. Supervisor or no, Jack lived mainly on sales, and sales weren't what they used to be.

With the experience and foresight of an expert prognosticator, Jack had lay out his concerns to Bill and Judy many months before: They could all continue living as consumers, or they could all become producers. Or, as he so bluntly put it to his neighbors and friends: "The consumers will falter with the economy and remain a part of the problem, or we could become producers and be part of the solution."

The proposal was certainly risky, and hideously expensive – even for the Burke's - but doing nothing might be far more dangerous. So with the Burke's financing, Jack would run the farm – something he had had extensive experience with in his youth (hopefully with Toby's assistance) pay back the Burke family with food and management skills. It would be a radical change for the Aarons family, but both sets of parents knew it would be necessary. When the plan was revealed to the children the night before Jesse's fifteenth birthday, it was met with stunned silence, though the older kids had expected something like this for a while. Eventually, however, the logic of the change was irrefutable and universally accepted. The gradual switch back towards an agrarian society was moving slowly forward, and had already been proven all across the country in hundreds of small ventures. The Burke-Aarons arrangement was just one more.

* * *

While the farm venture was playing itself out, April 11 arrived, and on the morning of Jesse's fifteenth birthday, he was awakened very early by a noise coming from his window. Looking outside he saw Leslie with a long branch tapping the pane to gain his attention. It was not yet six o'clock and the morning sun was barely discernable over the eastern rises, but Jesse jumped up, dressed, brushed his teeth, and quietly left the house to meet his girlfriend. They had seen so little of each other recently and the reunion was intense. After a long kiss, Leslie silently led him off into the woods behind the house to the old shed where Jesse had painted and drawn years before. When they arrived, she took a small gift from her jacket pocket.

"Happy birthday, Jess!" she said, handing him the present. Smiling, he unwrapped it and opened a small box. Inside was a piece of paper that he withdrew and unfolded: A bigger, brighter smile came across his face as he read the short note.

"That's my _personal_ gift. I have something else for you after dinner tonight," added Leslie, caressing his face.

Without reply, Jesse wrapped his arms around his best friend and held her tight, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair and enjoying the warmth of their closeness. They stayed that way for a few minutes, but as it was a weekday, both needed to get ready for school and soon walked back to the house. Leslie gave him one more brief kiss before gently pulling his head down a bit further and whispering into his ear, "I love you, Jesse Aarons."

Whether it was due to his early-morning alertness, or because it was his birthday, or simply the euphoria he felt from the day, Jesse called out as Leslie walked away, "I love you, too, Leslie Burke."

* * *

"So, you two have anything special planned for today?" Billy Eccles asked as he sat with Jesse and Leslie at lunch later that day. But any response they might have made was drowned out by a chorus of happy birthday wishes from Tom, Kyle, the twins and Makayla. A small stack of gifts also appeared, one causing slight damage to Jesse's hamburger.

"Oops!" Kyle laughed, moving what appeared to be a paperback off the bun.

"Hey, thanks, you guys," Jesse said, ducking his head a little in embarrassment.

Tom, the last to arrive, set two items down. "That one's from Grace," he explained, pointing to the wrapped gift. Jesse picked up Tom's present – an envelope - with a small box stuffed inside and a note. Leaning over, his friend explained, "Couldn't bring the gift into school, that's the IOU. The other thing you can use any time"

Jesse eyed Tom suspiciously, shaking his head in amusement. Opening the small box, he withdrew what appeared to be a bottle of perfume. Leslie took it from him and read the label.

"No. 2… By Poo-Pourri. Tom, what _is_ this?"

"Read the back label," he instructed.

"Spray in the loo before number 2 and no one will ever have a clue. This fresh blend of natural essential oils leaves only the sweetest scent behind. Ewww!"

Jesse and the other laughed and passed the amusing trinket around. The brief lunch period was soon over, but Jesse had time to open his other gifts and thank everyone. Leslie helped carry them back to his locker before running off to class, and then Kyle and Billy joined him half way to his sixth period, acting oddly quiet. Just before entering the room, his African-American friend pulled him aside.

"Jess, tomorrow after classes some of the school clubs want to talk to you about next year…Uh, you running for class president. Think you can stay after? My sister can drive you home. Shrugging, Jesse agreed, but wondered why Billy looked uncomfortable.

The next day he began to find out, though it started earlier than expected – at lunch.

In the weeks since returning from the cruise, Jesse had noticed an increase in Gary Fulcher and Ricky Manning's verbal attacks on him and his friends. He correctly attributed this to Steve Hoager's willingness to return to head-bully status now that his scholarship was secured. The school was big, so encounters were few and far between, but they still cropped up. The next was to be the nastiest.

Around their usual lunch table, Jesse chatted with his friends, trying to ignore Fulcher, Manning and Hoager casually walking up the aisle. When they didn't stop he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he saw the three stooges, as he'd started calling them, stop at the table where Billy and some of his friends usually sat. He tensed. Whatever one of the stooges had said to them it was not well received and two of the teens jumped up. As for Billy, his shoulders just slumped. But any further action was defused when a cafeteria monitor walked over and told the troublemakers to leave. On their way out they again walked by Jesse. This time Fulcher stopped.

"Hey, Aarons..._fudge pack_ over there is getting uppity," Gary said, "Better watch your ass." And with that cryptic comment he walked away laughing. Jesse gave Leslie a confused look, which she returned, but not so Tom and Mikey: They rose and went to talk with Billy and his friends.

"They're _disgusting!_" Lisa and Carol said together, in the eerie twins sort of way that made you wonder if they shared some kind of mental link. Makayla, Leslie and Jesse all asked what they were talking about.

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Lisa asked, incredulous.

"Billy didn't..." Carol started, and then checked herself.

"No! What's a fudge pack? Oh, like chocolate fudge, and he's black?"

The twins sighed and told Jesse to keep his voice down.

"It doesn't...it's an ugly name for a gay person," Lisa finally explained, her face red.

Leslie jumped up. The look of disgust and distaste on her face was like nothing Jesse had seen before.

"He's _gay_?! Billy's..."

"_Quiet!_" the other three barked.

"But...but..." Leslie looked at Makayla. "You used to date him. How can he be...? Are you sure?"

Patiently, Carol explained. "Les, he's still working through it. Didn't you notice that the table of people he sits with is the only one in the cafeteria that has students from every year? That's the Gay/Lesbian Support Group...or GLSG as they call themselves. Kyle's not gay, but he sits with him to show his, well, _support_."

"Jeez! I had no idea," Leslie said, finally sitting. "But what does _fudge pack_ mean?"

The twins closed their eyes and shook their head. "Les, remember, 'Milk, milk, lemonade, around the corner fudge is made'?" Lisa half spoke, half chanted the old rhyme like she had learned it in forth grade, pointing to each breast for 'milk,' her lap for 'lemonade,' and her butt for the last part. After a couple seconds Leslie's eyes showed understanding.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard," she said quietly to Jesse.

He nodded, a little distracted, for he had suddenly remembered Billy's request to meet with a few of the high school clubs following classes that afternoon. _Could it have something to do with this_?

At three o'clock sharp, Billy led Jesse into the lecture hall, a theater-like room with tiered seating for around a hundred people. The small stage at the front was bare except for a podium and a rickety old folding table with one leg badly bent. Stains on its surface and the surrounding floor attested to its unreliability as a stable platform. As soon as Jesse entered the hall, the clamoring voices died down. Billy took a seat, Jesse stepped up to the podium feeling badly set-up.

"Um, hi. Billy Eccles said you wanted to talk to me...?"

Then, for the first time, he looked – really looked – out at his fellow schoolmates gathered. There were a few teens he recognized, but not more than a handful of the three dozen present. What he _did_ recognize were signs of the different high school clubs. The Gothic kids were the easiest to pick out. A small group of Hispanic boys and girls sat unsettled, watching him with amusement. The GLSG – Billy and Kyle included – had their own area reserved. Billy gave him a cautiously encouraging smile. There was a clique of African-American freshmen, male and female, who looked on with intelligent eyes and reserved interest. The rest of those present could have belonged to any club – or no club - at all.

One of the Gothic boys stood up after a few seconds and said, "Yeah, Aarons, thanks for coming." Then in an undertone, "It was the least you could do."

A couple other voices snickered in agreement, but most told the student to be quiet. A girl sitting next to him pulled him back into his chair.

"Um, what do you want?" Lame as it was, it was all Jesse could think of saying.

Another boy stood up, one that had called out in support of the first, and said, "What we _want_ is to know whether you're gunna run for class president next year so we can make sure no one votes for you."

This time there were no dissenting shouts. It gave Jesse an immensely disquieting sensation in his stomach. He shuffled his feet.

"I – I hadn't decided, yet. But why is everyone mad at me? What did I do?"

It was the wrong way to phrase the question.

"What did you _do_?" It was the Gothic boy again. Upon closer inspection, Jesse saw an abnormally large number of piercings on his face. "What you _did_ was what every class president here does: You took care of yourself and your friends." This declaration was met with a general murmur of assent from the room. Jesse felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back seeing Billy was one of the ones nodding. But the situation was not out of control, and Jesse was immensely thankful for the school rule that required a teacher or staff member present at any gathering of more than fifteen students. His cross-country coach was in the anteroom, apparently marking papers for his freshmen U.S. History class.

Without trying not to sound (or be) defensive, Jesse took a couple deep breaths and calmly asked for examples.

The Gothic-dressed girl sitting next to the pierced boy now stood and told her friend to sit. "At least hear him out, Bobby."

Gathering his thoughts, Jesse bought himself a little time by walking to his backpack, retrieving a spiral pad and scratching out a few notes. For the most part, his audience granted him this time, seeing he was actually doing something that appeared constructive. In reality, he was just scribbling…and thinking.

"Ok, you're right. What can we do about it?" He wondered how many of the students noticed he was including them.

Billy spoke first. "It's not that we don't think you're, uh, unable, Jess, but…"

"But you spend all your time with your pretty, rich girl friends," Pierced-in-black shouted out, though only a few agreeing voices sang out this time.

"I didn't make friends with them _because_ they're rich, or pretty. And nothing's stopping _you_ from doing the same," retorted Jesse hotly. "Look, is your problem with me or how I am doing my job?"

A murmur of voices filled the hall, but eventually a girl shouted out that it wasn't him, personally. Then everyone quieted down again.

"Ok, I can work with that. Let me put some ideas together and then we can meet again." Jesse immediately realized this was not the right thing to say; he was faced with a bunch of skeptical looks. "Actually… What about this? Your groups feel what, slighted? Misunderstood?"

Some shrugs, some nods.

"Unaccepted?"

More nods, particularly from the gay and gothic groups.

"Have you tried to reach out to other students?"

"They'll just beat the shit out of us or abuse us if we do." More uncomfortable grumbles met this response.

"You guys know what?" asked Jesse, his ire rising, "You're looking to me to fix this, but even among yourselves you aren't showing much respect. Not a single one of your groups out there are sitting with another. How the heck could I get anything done when you don't even tolerate each other?"

That hit home. Most of the students started fidgeting, or looked guilty. A couple murmured agreement. Even the loudmouth Gothic boy was silenced.

"How about this? Other schools have a Diversity Day or Tolerance Day, um, where the oddball clubs like you," he looked up and gave his audience a cautious smiled and received a few laughs in return, "have stations set up for others to learn about what you believe. If I can arrange a half-day between exams and the end of the year, do you think you could all put something together?"

For the first time since arriving, Jesse felt like he was making a positive impression - and making headway. The different groups started talking to each other and after a few minutes the atmosphere was more hopeful and far less tense. Jesse asked for a representative from each group to keep in contact with him and promised another meeting in two weeks. This time his offer was accepted.

When they broke up a short time later, Jesse Aarons had gone far to earn himself the position of sophomore class president with this small collection of classmates. And this time it was not for talking down a bully, but for building up his fellow students' self-esteem.

Pumped by the positive events of the afternoon, Jesse ran over to see Leslie upon returning home. She was, herself, just arriving at her house from rehearsal and looked less than thrilled to see him.

"Rough practice?" asked Jesse, keeping his distance. He knew when she was grouchy and that giving her some distance was the wisest course.

"Just crappy timing, Jess," she muttered, dragging her backpack from the car. When a few books spilled out she cursed.

Jesse saw Bill give him a cautious look, which he ignored. "I'll get 'em, Les," he said, and gallantly picked up the fallen texts.

"Thanks. I gotta go." And without further words, touch, or look, she ran into the house. Jesse hadn't even had the chance to tell her his good news.

"Don't worry, Jess…" Bill's voice reminded him he wasn't alone. "…you'll get used to it. Judy's the same way one day a month." Then Leslie's father turned and trotted up the stairs and into his house.

* * *

The night before the musical opened at the high school, Jesse went to bed early to read some of the book Tom had given him for his birthday. _She Comes First_. When he'd first unwrapped the gift, he thought it was a primer on etiquette and how guys should treat girls. About eight words into the sub-title he was glad he had heeded Tom's advice and opened it in private. After an hour of reading, his mind somewhat numbed by the information he had gathered, Jesse hid the book in his closet and went to bed, a feeling of intrigue and distaste saturating his mind while drifting off to sleep. He wanted to ask Leslie about some of what he had read, but he also knew that he'd probably die of embarrassment if he did. Some things were difficult to talk to others about, even your best friend.

* * *

For all the anxiety and complaints, Leslie and the rest of the cast performed splendidly in the four performances spread over two weekends and the theatre was packed for each show. _Miss Adelaide_ sang and danced nearly flawlessly and the Burke's hosted the cast party when the final show – a Saturday matinee - was finished. Jesse thought his girlfriend looked exhausted but she hung in there all that evening, playing the perfect host and accepting innumerable expressions of approval. At the end of the day, however, with all the guests gone, Leslie collapsed into Jesse's arms and said she was going to bed. Bill sent her upstairs, Jesse assisting her the whole way.

With Leslie tucked in, the two friends spoke for a few minutes, but the worn out actress fell asleep as Jesse related a story of a back-stage mishap that nearly caused a piece of scenery to fall in the middle of that afternoon's show. Resisting a strong urge to climb into bed and lay with her for a while, Jesse instead gave Leslie a kiss on the forehead and departed.

As he walked home, thoughts of his best friend at the acting camp in two months filled his mind. With their tight schedules, the venue had been changed to Denver to accommodate a number of the professional actors participating; this meant he would have no chance to visit over the two-week class. The unusual annoyance of anticipating Leslie's absence caused a wave of emotion to momentarily overcome Jesse and he stopped to think. Their relationship, already as close as he could imagine it being, was begging to stretch the mental and physical limits they shared. It was an altogether disquieting and unnerving sensation as he considered their future.

Ellie and Toby greeted Jesse as he came in the front door and he joined them on the living room couch. They were watching a rerun of an old Star Trek movie, sharing a bowl of popcorn and drinking beers. Jesse took his sister's bottle and stole a swallow, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste and ignoring her questioning glance.

Before the movie ended, Jesse left the room and went to bed without a word.

Revision 1.1, November, 2008


	54. Part 5: The Endings

**A Life Rescued  
Part 5**  
**Chapter 54 – The Endings**  
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

_Disclaimer: The world of Terabithia belongs to Katherine Paterson and her publishers.  
I'm just playing around in it for a while. No profit was, or will be received from this story._

_Dear readers, it's time to close out this story and let your imaginations run away with the next few years of Jesse Aarons and Leslie Burke's lives. Thank you all so much for the kind words and encouragement over the past sixteen months; I truly appreciate them. There is a brief wrap-up starting about half way through the chapter, a sort of where they are now. _

_I should also note that, in spite of the parallels I draw between my Leslie Burke and AnnaSophia Robb, __in no way do I consider Leslie's actions a representation of AnnaSophia's personality__. __God bless you. Rick (IHateSnakes) December, 2008.  
_

It took Leslie the better part of a week to wind down from the excitement of the spring show; by the last Friday of April she was back to her old self and reveling in the early burst of summer weather which had descended on southwest Virginia. The forecast for the next few days spoke only of warm, sunny days and comfortable nights. Even the stench from the future farmland had abated to the point of mere annoyance. With this weekend came her first opportunity since the cruise for she and Jesse to enjoy an evening together – and alone. After school, the couple picked up a picnic dinner Ellie had packed for them and headed down the path towards the old Boone place. The limited daylight would prevent them from going far, but a mile stroll into the woods was enough for privacy. And Leslie had planned this outing since Jesse's birthday to reveal the full nature of her mysterious birthday note.

Hand-in-hand, the two went their way and reached a clearing off the path at about four-thirty. Jesse unfolded a plastic ground cloth and Leslie shook out a thinning pale green blanket that had seen better days. On a thick bed of pine needles, the two lay down and started unpacking the food and talking.

"Jess, about that note I gave you for your birthday," Leslie started. Her voice was shy and coy, not its usual confident tone.

"Oh, yeah, I figured you'd get around to it after the show was over. What's the big surprise?" He'd noted that there was no package in sight.

"Jess, I want to give you something that's personal and shows how much I love you," she started, then burst into laughter at the sight of Jesse's look of consternation. "Not _that_, Jess" _Maybe next year._ Batting her eyes seductively, Leslie rolled over next to her best friend and continued, "I want to rejoin the RCIC program at church."

Still a bit stunned by his misinterpretation of Leslie's initial statement, it took Jesse a moment to fully realize what he'd been told. But as the jolt wore off, so did his miasma of concern and he rolled atop his friend and wrapped her in his arms. "You mean it? Really?"

A muffled reply sounded affirming, but breathless, too.

"Sorry, Les," he laughed, rolling back off. Leslie gulped in air, smiling nonetheless, and traded places, pinning Jesse to the ground with the full length of her body. They gazed into each other's eyes and began kissing – and a little more.

The lively blonde he had come to love so deeply has never ceased to amaze and surprise him with her warmth and care. She had become almost everything to him emotionally. The surprise about her rejoining the church conversion program gave him a deep spiritual contentment. And even their first innocent steps into becoming sexually active seemed to (finally) fit properly. Aside from some initial shyness on both parts, the events felt far more appropriate than sinful or unseemly.

Leslie read Jesse's mind perfectly, too, seeing and sensing a deep contentment in her boyfriend. It nearly made her choke up. The long journey she had begun a year ago to give Jesse more self confidence and comfort with their physical relationship was paying off. And while the progression was slow, and would very likely remain that way, Leslie found she was enjoying the process more than the end result. In fact, she was enjoying it much more than she would have expected.

Clothing and hair disheveled, the two held each other, now more for warmth than anything else. Dinner was long forgotten and the shadows of trees were fading with the rapidly dimming light. Both knew they had to get home; neither wanted to move.

"Les…"

"Jess…"

They spoke at the same time, and with obvious reluctance broke apart and started gathering their things. Jesse cursed in frustration as he folded the uncooperative plastic ground cloth now stiff with the cool evening air. Leslie helped him when she had finished with the blanket.

Approaching her house, Leslie stopped and looked at her best friend. He was smiling a smile of contentment and ease and she mouthed _I love you, _kissed him, and then asked, "Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm _great_. You?"

An ardent smile. "_Fabulous!_"

Both meant it. They looked into each other's eyes, and holding hands said a final good night and parted. Leslie immediately went inside to make a very long entry into her diary; not in her daily diary, but one she kept secret and very well hidden. One she would never show to anyone except, _maybe_, Jesse Aarons.

* * *

"And how was the picnic, little bro? Like my egg and tuna salad?"

Ellie was spending the weekend at home while Toby was in Bethesda, receiving the last treatment for his eyes, and she had volunteered to pack the basket for her brother's date. Jesse and Leslie had forgotten all about eating – there were other more appealing things on their mind at the time. When he heard Ellie laugh he knew he'd been busted. She walked into the dining room with two wrapped sandwiches, one in each hand.

"You two didn't eat a thing, did you? Okay, spill it, Jess." She dropped the wraps on the table and sat across from her mute and scarlet-faced brother.

"Um…" was all Jesse could think to say. He'd come to love Ellie dearly, and relied on her for advice – even about some intimate matters – but wasn't going to share details this evening. At least not yet. "We weren't hungry, that's all. Maybe I'll have mine now."

With a hard, piercing look, Ellie shrugged and pushed one of the sandwiches across the table. "Have it your way. Oh, Barb Keane called and wants to talk to you. Her number's on the…"

"I know it," Jesse nearly shouted, and with the sandwich again forgotten, ran to his room to return the call.

As Jesse dialed, his hands shook. He had known for some time that Barbara's call was coming, but he dreaded it nonetheless. Her father's trial began in a few days and she was one of the first witnesses for the prosecution. But what she wanted from him – his presence and emotional support – was asking a lot. He would have to miss at least a couple days of school, though that was nothing to facing the graphic testimony from his friend and her sisters. He still felt queasy thinking about what the man had done to his daughters.

"So," Barbara drew out the two letter word so it sounded like ten. "The trial starts a week from Monday and I'm scheduled for testimony Thursday and Friday. Can you still come?"

"Yeah, sure. You want Les to come, too, if she can?" He tried to sound more willing than he felt.

"She can't, I just talked to her. Her parents won't allow it."

"Oh, okay. Still at the Lark Creek court house?"

"Yes, the judge refused the change of venue. I'm a little worried about that; this is a small community and finding eighteen jurors was difficult. No one wants this overturned on appeal."

_I guess not._ "Okay. You, um, ready for this?" he asked upon hearing Barbara sob.

"What do _you_ think? I haven't seen him in nine months and am about to expose myself to the entire community. I bet every pervert at school will be there to hear the details."

In an attempt to lighten the conversation, Jesse said that that would be impossible because half the school would be absent. The effort failed.

"Ha ha ha. You should have been at the witness prep thing I did. The lawyers asked me everything except my measurements. And they were _my_ lawyers!"

Grimacing, Jesse tried to encourage his friend more and ended the call a short time later feeling as if he'd failed miserly. Then he rang Leslie and discussed it with her. "Let's send her some flowers. Maggie, too," he suggested. "They're both probably getting no sleep and freaking-out over this whole thing."

Leslie agreed and said she would send them each a dozen roses and a nice card. It made _him_ feel better, but Jesse was hardly concerned with himself.

In fact, the expected sensation of the incest and abuse trial of the Keane patriarch was lost for a while in the news from the Middle East, in particular the war in Iran. A coup in the Islamic Republic had overthrown the Ayatollah and set up a more moderate, peace seeking government. So the month of May began brightly, and with positive news from the other side of the globe for once. Fortunately for Barbara Keane these geopolitical events coincided with her two days of testimony; it did not make them easier, however, only less public.

Jesse sat with Barbara and her sisters (minus Jen who was in the middle of exams and would arrive the following week) and a few other friends from Lark Creek. Aside from the prosecution lawyers, they also had two social workers and a court-appointed liaison nearby. The girls had the adviser to help them understand what was being said and done at the trial. With all the added bodies, Jesse found himself feeling useless. Only the occasional smile from Barbara or one of the other girls made him feel as if he was serving any purpose.

As expected, Barbara's testimony and cross examination began the Thursday of the second week of the trial. Few of the details were new to Jesse, as he and Leslie had spoken with Barbara extensively over the past seven months, yet they still made him ill hearing about the brainwashing and a few of the more graphic details she needed to bring up to help the case.

When the prosecution was finished, the defense lawyer began taking her shots at the teen's story. The most disturbing part of this, for Jesse, was the way the lawyers seemed to manipulate whatever Barbara said to make it appear she was the aggressor in the affair. Looking over to the jury, Jesse sometimes thought he could read their expressions and see when a point was scored.

The common thread throughout the defense's questioning, and the one that raised the most objections, dealt with the children's lack of ability to distinguish what was appropriate behavior. Knowing she would be allowed very little latitude with Maddie, and Maggie and her older sister were not abused as the youngest three girls, the defense lawyer slammed Barbara over and over. The prosecution stopped raising objections after an hour and called for a brief recess where they counseled the witness to answer truthfully and directly. Further objections, they said, would only draw attention to the defense's point, even if it was bogus. Barbara wiped away a tear and returned to the stand. It got worse when the defense shifted their strategy a bit.

"Miss Keane, I have your transcripts from school in England and here in Lark Creek; five years worth…"

The prosecutor rose to object but the judge cut him off. "Watch yourself, Ms. Green, you know those are _not_ public records."

"Yes, your honor, I was not going to speak to the details but the general trend of Miss Keane's education."

The judge gave a warning nod.

"Over the past five years, since you were ten, your records show a steady increase in your grades. Do you consider yourself a reasonably intelligent young lady?"

"Yes."

"And have you always felt yourself reasonably intelligent?"

"Yes, I think so."

In spite of his earlier comment to Barbara, the prosecutor objected again.

"Your honor, this was covered earlier. Do we really need to…"

Looking even more provoked, the judge held up his hand. "Where are you going with this, Ms. Green?"

"Approach, your honor?"

He waved the lawyers forward. "What is it, Ms. Green?"

"Your honor, we were not allowed to depose the witnesses in regard to their schooling, for obvious reasons." She gave a condescending nod to the prosecutor. "I only ask for a little latitude as Miss Barbara Keane is very likely the only one of the sisters who can form a mature opinion about what happened."

"Ms. Green, you're this close to crossing the line, but I will allow you a _very little_ leeway. However, I want no repetition of previous questions and absolutely no details about this girl's private life outside of the case before us. Do you understand?"

"Yes, judge."

The prosecutor patted Barbara's arm on the way back to his seat.

"Barbara, to repeat, have you always felt yourself reasonably intelligent?"

"Yes."

"And your birthday was May the tenth?"

Confused by the odd change of questioning, Barbara looked to the prosecutor. He nodded. "That's correct: May tenth, nineteen ninety-seven."

"Do you recall your twelfth birthday, back in England?"

"I…" She hesitated.

"Miss Keane?"

"Yeah…Yes, some of it."

"Do you recall what you asked your father for on that birthday?"

Jesse immediately noticed his friend's face go white. Whatever it was she asked for, he knew, she was surprised the defense knew about it. He looked to the prosecutor and saw only the profile of a blank face.

"I…Yes."

"Please tell the court what you asked your father for, on your twelfth birthday, Miss Keane."

"I…I…"

"Your honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question."

"Miss Keane, please answer."

"He said…I asked him…"

And the defense jumped in: "Didn't you ask your father to show you, quote, _how to do it the right way_, unquote?"

"I…but..."

"Yes or no, Miss Keane: You were referring to intimate relations, correct?"

"Yes, but..."

"Miss Keane, earlier you testified that it was _always_ your father who initiated any intimate contact. How do you explain this _birthday_ request? If your father _always_ initiated these activities, why were you asking for him to, in your words, show you how to do it the right way?"

"I…. I don't remember. Maybe I was confused. That was years ago."

"But you had no trouble recalling and testifying that your father initiated _everything_. So which is correct?"

"Objection, your honor. Asked and answered."

"I'll rephrase the question, judge. To clarify, was it always your father, Miss Keane, who initiated everything or did _you_ ask for it now and then? Or did you _always_ ask for it?"

"That's enough, Ms. Green," the judge cut in. Then quietly to the defense lawyer, "You've made your point."

"Yes, your honor. No more questions for this witness."

The prosecution's lead lawyer stood at his table and tapped a pen on the palm of his hand for a few seconds. "Redirect, your honor?" He nodded. "Barbara, when did you begin to suspect that your father's activities were inappropriate?"

Fighting back tears, the witness answered. "About two years ago, when I found out he was doing…doing the same things with Maddie and Terri."

"But you did nothing, even then. Why?"

"Because I trusted him, and my mother. I _trusted_ them." The last phrase came out as if spoken by a dead person.

"Thank you, Barbara. No more questions, your honor."

The judge gaveled the trial recessed for the day, the jury was excused, and Jesse watched Barbara leave the witness stand and go straight to the prosecutor. He did not look pleased. The defense team, on the other hand, left with thinly hidden smiles.

"They shouldn't be too happy," a voice spoke up behind Jesse. It was Maggie.

"Um…wasn't what Barb said bad?"

"Nah…. Okay, maybe a little. They have no way to really defend the bastard, only gain some sympathy with the jury. They'll be the ones doing the sentencing. Green's going to work any angle she can for a reduced sentence."

Jesse hoped she was right. As Maggie and Maddie walked up to their sister, however, it was very clear that the prosecutor had been surprised by this information, and he didn't like surprises.

Late on the second day of her testimony, Barbara, obviously tired and upset, seemed to contradict some of her previous testimony and the defense lawyer jumped on this, too. Hearing the exchanges made Jesse furious, dizzy, and nauseated. He felt like crying out in protest more than once; but Maggie, seeing his anxiety, leaned forward from her seat and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When Barbara was excused, she did not return to her bench but left the court room straightaway. Jesse followed and met his pale and shaken friend in the corridor. They sat to talk.

"Jess, you know what I hate more than anything about this whole trial? It's that bitch making it sound like I was to blame for this." Barbara got no farther before breaking down and crying on his shoulder. He comforted her as best he could until her sisters and Aunt from Woodbridge appeared and took her off. It was four o'clock on a Friday afternoon and Jesse had a long bike ride home, _but at least_, he thought, _it's not raining_.

The Keane trial ended as June started and the father was found guilty of multiple felonies. Under Virginia law, he was sentenced to a minimum of twenty years in a state penitentiary and forbidden from contacting his daughters by any means. The charges of murder for the death of Terri Keane had never made it past the grand jury months before, but all the children were happy that this part of their life was over. Jen also pointed out to Jesse that child molesters were considered the scum of the prison by the inmates and their unusual code of justice. She said he wouldn't last long, but that only made Jesse's stomach turn.

Mrs. Keane never went to trial. She pled guilty to a number of lesser charges and was sentenced to ten years in a medium security facility. Jesse and Leslie told Barbara they thought she got off light, but their friend simply shook her head sadly, she still had a long way to go to make a full recovery - and some of the scars would never heal.

* * *

A month after Janice Burke was born, Bill and Judy received a letter from the clerk of Arlington County. Inside the legal envelope was a letter forwarded to them from their son. The brief note, Judy told Mary when she visited later that day, said that he wished to meet them, but also expressed a hesitance to invade and disrupt their lives. While the baby nursed to sleep, the women spoke and traded ideas. In the end, Mary went home doubtful that the reunion would take place.

At dinner that evening in the Burke home, Leslie voiced her opinion. Bill and Judy listened, but still refused to make a decision. Their seeming indecisiveness baffled the teen and she pushed her parents to the point that Bill snapped.

"Leslie, _you don't have any idea what you're taking about_. This man is an interesting enigma to you, but to your mother and I he's the symbol of…" He was lost for the right word and looked to Judy.

"_Failure_, Les," her mother finally said. Then more soberly, "It nearly destroyed us – your father and I." She stood and left the table in tears.

Bill, nearly as upset as his wife, hung his head and followed after a minute.

Leslie felt terrible.

* * *

Plans for Ellie and Toby's church wedding were finally set for early October. The eldest Aarons girls spent many hours planning and plotting with their mother. The joyous event seemed to consume the three females whenever they were together. Leslie considered joining in, but found the silliness too much. May, on the other hand, added her ideas of grand plans, mostly centering around herself in a bridesmaid dress.

* * *

The final planned activity of the spring was the Memorial Day campout Jesse and Leslie had arranged with Tom and Grace. Their friends were leaving immediately after school ended on June 8th and this would be their last chance to be together for a while. The outing came and went in a mixture of joy and sorrow, for there was a great deal to look back upon over three years. Death, birth, meetings and separations: all these blended together in conversation and kept the four teens up most of Saturday night.

Tom brought along a number of cases for carrying flora samples – he had never lost his interest in botany - to take something living to their new home that would remind him of his old home and young friends.

Grace, who always seemed to be on the short end of the BFF stick, had finally made a close friend with a fellow eighth-grader and spent much of the three days lamenting their upcoming separation.

Jesse and Leslie felt the pain the least: They had each other and a cadre of new friends at school. Still, Jesse reflected Sunday evening with Leslie about their first encounters with the Jacobs family at Virginia Beach four years earlier. He recalled how jealous he was when Tom began to show too much attention to her. Leslie had never heard this story, but when reminded of the vacation, said she found it easy to believe.

"You _do_ get jealous sometimes, Jess," she said with affection.

"Yeah, sorry..." he started to reply, but turned and ended it with a kiss.

It was three in the morning and Tom and Grace were asleep. Jesse and Leslie sat together watching the camp fire burn down to yellow and orange coals. The mountain night, cool and cloudless, seemed to magnify the Milky Way above. Occasional shooting stars only added to the loving ambiance that bound the two teens.

Awhirl in each of their minds was their future, individually and together. And while Leslie believed she had long ago cast aside any doubt about what lay ahead for them, Jesse was only now coming to understand the permanency of the bonds they'd nurtured and what they might mean in the years to come.

But as with most fifteen year old couples, the future was even now a lifetime away. Serious thoughts of things like marriage and family, while entertained in fantasies and play, were still distant, indistinct...remote. The rapidly changing world in which they lived constantly reminded them of war, separation and death.

Finally exhausted, the couple crawled a few feet to their tent, shed their shoes, and climbed into the two sleeping bags which had been zipped together. Following a minute of adjusting positions, Jesse and Leslie, wrapped tightly together against the cold, kissed, and drifted off to a few hours of sleep. The last thoughts for both teens were decidedly tranquil and uncommonly platonic.

* * *

Two days before the end of the school year, Jesse and Leslie walked from the lunch room, hand-in-hand, relieved that exams were complete and their last days as freshmen were imminent. The seniors had already graduated and only had to show up to clean out their lockers. And this Thursday afternoon was the annual academic awards ceremony in the gym. As they rounded a corner before the central locker plaza, both stopped and found themselves only feet from Gary Fulcher, Ricky Manning, Steve Hoager - and a fourth hidden form. Fulcher and Manning were helping the senior collect his things and making fawning comments about getting tickets to the Penn State games that fall.

But it wasn't so much this triple threat that troubled and alarmed them as the nearly unrecognizable form of the younger Hoager – Scott - whom neither had seen for over a year. He stood noticeably taller and straighter, his blonde hair, cropped very short, was almost invisible, and the obvious semi-military fatigues with his military academy patch made the teen appear more mature than his fifteen years.

To complete the brief and astonishing reunion, Scott merely looked at them and gave a brief nod. Jesse could have sworn it was not altogether unfriendly, but he felt Leslie's hand tighten around his. Then the visitor and former student went back to loading his older brother's collection of junk into a box, pausing now and then to scrutinize an object, often with an expression of disgust.

"What do you want, A-B?" Manning snarled, finally seeing the couple.

Jesse glanced at Leslie and winked. "'A-B'? Oh, _Aarons-Burke_, very clever, Ricky. A little above your IQ to think up something that witty, isn't it?"

What happened next astounded nearly everyone there. Manning made a move to tackle Jesse, but found himself held back by Scott's tight grip on his arm. Astounded, Manning looked to Steve for assistance but he just shrugged.

"Steve isn't going to help you, are you, big brother?"

"Nope."

"Why the hell not? We've waited all year to pound these two ass holes into the ground…"

"Shut it, Manning," Steve snapped.

"Listen up you two idiots," snarled Scott, "Steve can still lose his scholarship so he ain't going to cause problems. And you two had better learn to cool down." With that, Scott released Ricky's arm and went back to work. Manning and Fulcher stood dumbfounded for a moment, but soon went back to what they'd been doing.

Jesse and Leslie backed off and then turned to walk away. They only got a few steps when Scott called out. "Hey, Burke…you're looking good."

Too astounded to answer, Leslie just gave her former tormenter a cautious wave and continued on her way. When they had turned another corner, Jesse stopped and looked at his girlfriend.

"Can you believe that?"

"People change, Jess."

"Yeah, I guess…"

Later that afternoon, academic awards were presented to seven freshmen, all of whom had earned straight A's – overall - in their first year: Jesse Aarons was called up first and stumbled forward in a daze. Of the award winners he was the most surprised. He had carried a B in Spanish all year. "I musta aced the final. I can't believe this," he whispered to Tom and Leslie.

Not surprisingly, his girlfriend was the next person called up.

Jesse again earned top honors for art, and Leslie a disappointing second place in drama. Tom told her she only came in second because the school always awards top honors to a senior.

And then ninth grade was over.

Two days later the Jacobs left Lark Creek. The farewells were long and tearful for all involved. The family had gone through a lot over the past three years, but it was mainly the separation of friends that even got Tom a little choked-up. He only brightened up a bit after Lisa and Carol had gone home and Leslie gave him one last hug goodbye and a kiss on his cheek. Next to them, Jesse was embracing Grace; he wanted to say something but his tongue was tied and he knew there was nothing he could say anyway.

As the Jacobs drove away in the cloud of dust from the moving van, Jesse took Leslie's hand. "Let's go home," he said in a quiet voice.

* * *

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, many years later:

"When will they get here, Daddy?" the four-year-old asked her father for the fiftieth time that day.

"Tomorrow, Becky," he replied patiently, "in the afternoon. Now good night…"

"Tell me about Leslie again, Daddy. _Pleeeeease!_"

"Not tonight, kiddo, you need…"

"Oh, _please_, one more time, Daddy."

Looking down at his daughter, the man smiled warmly. He never could resister her; it was a wonder she was not spoiled rotten.

"Leslie Burke was my best friend from Lark Creek. She was beautiful, kind, passionate, caring. Everyone who knew her was so sad when she left and moved to Los Angeles to be in the movies." The man paused for a moment as a never-completely-purged ache showed on his face. "It broke some peoples' heart."

"Yours, Daddy? Did she break your heart?"

He smiled fondly. "A little. We had been apart for a while at that point so it wasn't too bad."

Behind the man, a woman stood watching and listening to the conversation. She had heard it dozens of times before and it always made her a little wary. Her husband had been very attached to Leslie Burke, she knew. And although she herself knew the woman a little, she was always a bit jealous that her husband had such fond memories of this person. She cleared her throat. "Time for bed, Becky."

"_Aw, mom_. Can't Daddy finish the story?"

"Sweetheart, we'll see Aunt Leslie tomorrow and she can tell it to you in person."

A dreamy look came over the child's face: She smiled and acquiesced. In less than a minute she was asleep.

The couple walked down the second floor hallway, stopping at the door to each of their other four children's rooms, listening, then moving to the family room. When they were settled, snuggled in front of the crackling fire, the wife asked again, "Regrets?"

"_No_, not regrets. Honestly. I just get lost in those _what ifs_ now and then. I'm sure there's some unhealthy psychological term for it."

Laughing at himself, he turned and kissed his wife of fifteen years. That was something that would not change – his love for the woman next to him. She accepted the tacit apology and eagerly threw herself into the kiss, wondering if _six_ children would be irresponsible.

* * *

Lark Creek changed little after Jesse and Leslie finished their freshman year in high school and the Jacobs moved away. Buildings came and went, a farmer's market every Saturday and Wednesday sprung up in the town square. A now popular Boy Scout reservation opened just a few miles away. Stores, schools, municipal buildings remained - in short, everything a proud and thriving community could support.

A couple miles outside of the town, Bill and Judy Burke still live in their house and write mostly young adult fiction, but only part-time now. Of their two younger children, Janice and James, the younger married and lives in Roanoke and the elder works on the farm with his father and neighbor, Mr. Aarons.

After many months of soul-searching and discussions, Judy and Bill decided to meet their adopted son in the summer of 2012. But the surprise was on them – and him. God or fate had thrown the Burke's first child back into their midst long before either knew it and everyone was astonished they had not noticed the resemblances sooner. At a dinner with the Aarons family one evening, Bill and Judy announced that they would be meeting their son in Roanoke. Anton Williams – Brenda's boyfriend – collapsed into a chair saying he was going there to meet his parents.

When the shock and disruption subsided, Anton told the story about how he had been able to trace his birth parents to the Roanoke vicinity years before. When an Army job opened in the area he took it in hopes of somehow finding them. Little did anyone know how accurate his guesses turned out to be. Brenda and Anton were married two years later and now live in Harrisonburg.

Toby and Ellie, still happily married and the parents of three war orphans, moved back to Lark Creek a few years ago when Jack and Bill needed full time assistance on the farm.

Brian Aarons is a second lieutenant in the Army and stationed in England. He's unmarried and enjoys that status.

Joyce and May Aarons are both married and expecting their first and second child respectively. Joyce lives in Lynchburg, May in Lark Creek.

Mary Aarons had a moderately serious heart attack a couple years back and now takes it easy at home. Otherwise, the family's health has been excellent.

Jen and Maggie Keane both became physicians. Jen spends a few months every year working in third world countries in the _Doctors Without Boarders_ program. Maggie specialized in child psychiatry; she practices in Roanoke and maintains a professional relationship with Dr. Carlson.

Barbara Keane married out of college and divorced a few years later. She remarried and now lives in Richmond with her husband and children.

Grace Jacobs is happily married to a long-time friend and lives in Wilmington, North Carolina, near her father.

Makayla Flynn went to work for the Richmond Times-Dispatch after college and never married.

Lisa Silliard danced professionally for a number of years with Riverdance. She is now married and raising a family.

Carol Silliard and Mikey Sellers got back together a couple years after college and share an apartment in Baltimore. Mikey works for Glidden Paints and Carol is a kindergarten teacher. They have two children.

Billy Eccles went to college in Cincinnati and remained in the area after graduation.

Ricky Manning was in and out of trouble with the police throughout high school. In the summer following his graduation, he and a group of friends traveled west and were never seen again in Lark Creek. Few mourned their absence.

Gary Fulcher was killed in a drunk driving accident his senior year at LCHS.

Steve Hoager played college football at Penn State and was drafted in the fifth round by the Detroit Lions. His career was cut short by a knee injury after three seasons in the NFL. He is now an assistant football coach at LCHS.

Scott Hoager enjoyed a successful career in the Army and retired due to battle injuries after fifteen years and with the rank of captain. He was instrumental in shaping the reconstituted military forces of Iran and earned a number of citations for bravery as well as three Purple Heart during the seemingly unending mop-up operations in the Middle East.

Tim Haskell and Julie Summers eloped a couple years after the cruise on which they had met. The marriage was difficult and they separated a couple time until Julie quit acting and decided to focus her energies on the marriage. They are now enjoying a quiet life with one special needs child.

And finally:

Leslie Burke spent two weeks in Denver in the summer of 2012 learning about professional acting. At the end of the course a group of invited agents and managers from Los Angeles came out to scout for talent they'd be interested in representing in LA. About three weeks later, Leslie's life was turned upside down when she was invited to venture out to Los Angeles and audition for television programs, movies and ads. Bill and Judy were skeptical, but her father took the fifteen year old west in August and she spent two weeks making more than forty auditions. She left with a booking for a commercial spot - and a great deal of excitement.

Over the next two summers and a few holiday vacations, Leslie earned a number of TV and movie parts, all roles scrutinized and approved by her parents. But by her senior year she had to make a decision about whether to go to college or turn full-time actor. In Hollywood she was popular and in demand, with a reputation for being a rising talent. All these things, however, did not blind her to the fact that she and Jesse would be forced apart. They were still _together_, but the strain of the long west coast divisions and upcoming college separation would force the issue. The Massachusetts College of Art offered Jesse a full scholarship in January of his senior year. After much soul-searching he took Leslie for a walk on their farm determined to make a decision about their future life together. It led to a number of difficult decisions.

Before that point, however, and in the summer between their sophomore and junior years, Jesse and Leslie finally found the special place Mr. Boone had told them about many years earlier. Hidden in the far northern edge of the property, deep in a hollow accessible only by a steep, winding trail, was a small bubbling spring of warm, sulfur-scented water. It percolated from the rocky soil at a comfortable eighty degrees twelve months a year and made for a cozy spot to hang out. On the granite walls surrounding the natural hot tub were the drawings and carvings of the first explorers in the area: the Native Americans. Leslie took pictures of the drawings to the Roanoke Pioneer Museum and found they dated back more than four hundred years. Unfortunately, the individual portions of land both had inherited from their friend had long since been selected and did not include the spring. The remainder of the property now belonged to the Boy Scouts of America for use as a summer camp, as Mr. Boone had wished. Jesse and Leslie, however, still found time to spend many days and weekends in this quiet, private spa and never revealed its location to anyone. It would only be spoiled, they agreed.

* * *

"_Aunt Leslie!_" a young voice cried out before the lovely blonde woman had so much as set a foot on the ground. The rapid patter of feet spoke of the approaching child more than her blurred and faint shadow in the dim porch light.

"Becky! Is that you?" Leslie answered, knowing it _was_ her nominal niece. The child threw herself into the van and the arms of her favorite aunt. Outside the late model electric, a chorus of other voices emanating from the house told of a large family gathering. Leslie felt like she was home as she embraced the child.

A boy – now a man – who once cared deeply for her, helped the former actress out of the car, an action made more difficult by the advanced state of her pregnancy. "Becky, be careful," he admonished his daughter.

"Oh, she's fine. How's Maddie? I see Becky still has her mother's wild red hair."

"You know, a Keane trait. Everyone else is inside and warm but Becky had to wait for you out here, so I sat with her. How are you, Les?" Tom Jacobs, smiling brightly, pulled his friend into a warm embrace. He released her and bent his head to look into the van, winking when he saw a face that had changed little over the years. "Jess, how's tricks?"

Smiling at the ever-present double entendre in Tom's question, Jesse Aarons replied, "Number five on the way, so they're obviously good." Their eyes met and two decades of history passed between them.

Late Thanksgiving evening, when all the guests had departed and the herd of cousins and family were in their beds, Jesse and Leslie donned their warmest clothes and went for a walk to look at the farm. The nearly full moon was shining brightly and lit the way toward the grounds.

First they walked up the drive to the Burke's home. The old concrete patio where Leslie once washed off skunk musk was not bigger and covered with flag stone. Then back down past Bill's old, rusting tool shed where a coil of rope still lay high upon a shelf, one end frayed. They walked over the creek – a permanent bridge had been erected many years before – and passed the nearly invisible remnants of the old pickup rusting away and covered in brown-leafed vines. A tree house, long ago a castle, had decayed but for a single board nailed crookedly into the trunk, a remnant of the once grand staircase.

Across the harvested fields, through the garden, past the barns for livestock and farm equipment, Jesse and Leslie strolled to a secluded spot, a small dell in the woods by the north creek. They paused and looked on silently, thinking back many years. Then Leslie spoke, a touch of mischief in her voice. "You always bring me back here, Jess. I'm beginning to think this place has a special meaning to you."

"Nah, nothing particularly special."

Leslie gave a little cry and swatted at her husband's arm. He barely felt it through the layers of clothing and a mind distracted by memories of the spot where they had first made love. Then they turned to each other and embraced - a bit askance with Leslie eight months pregnant, but they managed. Lost in thoughts and memories, as they always were when visiting home, that single event still shone through brightly.

"I'll never forget, Jess," she said softly into his ear, and felt his mouth smile.

"Yeah. It was…"

"Amazing."

"Special."

"Magical."

Jesse laughed. "_Clumsy!_"

Giggling, Leslie agreed. "A little, but worth it."

"Yeah, _definitely_ worth it." He paused and then pointed to the hollow. "Once more, for old-time sake?"

"Not on your life, Jesse Aarons!" squealed his best friend. "It's _freezing_, I'm as big as a cow, and besides…."

He stopped her with a finger on her lips and a nod of his head. And a heart-warming smile. Then the lovers and soul-mates, husband and wife, dissolved into laughter and finally into a kiss.

The End

Revision 1.1, December, 2008


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